


Christmas Don't End In Blood: Bunker Secret Santa 2018

by CastielsCarma, MalMuses, MittenWraith, WinJennster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Collaboration, Dean is Dean and not Michael, Family Feels, M/M, Secret Santa, just pretend nobody has cosmic consequences hanging over them and they're all allowed to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 15:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: Two Year Old Son Goes On Christmas Rampage: What Happens Next Will Surprise You, And Warm Your Heart!





	1. 'Twas The Week Before Christmas, And All Through the Bunker...

**Author's Note:**

> This project started as a random idea while chatting with [Raine](http://supernaturalfamfiction.tumblr.com) on tumblr about a month ago, and in the span of an hour became the beginnings of this fic, and a massive collaboration to bring a little joy and warmth to the Winchesters' entire extended family.
> 
> Thank you so much to all the authors and artists who worked so hard to make this story what it is.
> 
> Special thanks to [Foxymoley](http://foxymoley.tumblr.com) for the spectacular banner artwork! You can also find her work as [Foxymoley on AO3](http://foxymoley.tumblr.com).
> 
> More special thanks to [kayanem](http://kayanem.tumblr.com) for the beautiful art in Chapter 16.
> 
> Additional special thanks go to [elizabethrobertajones](http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com) and [MalMuses](http://malmuses.tumblr.com) for Superior Editorial Assistance, and to [Crypto](http://cryptomoon.tumblr.com) for technical assistance in getting this posted.

 

 

It had been a grueling month for Jack. Well, it hadn’t exactly been a picnic for anyone else, either. Jack was finally well enough to go out hunting again, and it had been just in time. Michael’s little monster surprises had been cropping up all over the country, keeping every hunter in the bunker on what had begun to feel like one long, eternal hunt. Less than a week before Christmas-- which Jack had come to understand was an important time for families to spend time together from the endless holiday themed television programming in every motel they’d stayed at in the last couple of months-- Jack decided that his family was kind of lacking in the holiday cheer department.

Sam had cautioned him that the tv commercials depicting idyllic family moments over coffee and oven-ready pastry, the adventures of talking candy and Santa, and couples surprising each other with luxury cars adorned with oversized novelty bows didn’t accurately portray the the average American experience as they celebrated their winter holidays of choice. Jack had understood, for the most part. Those talking candies didn’t even come in a nougat variety. But from all the movies that had run in the background while they’d researched their latest hunt, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what  _ he’d _ like his family holiday celebration to be.

Unbeknownst to Sam or Dean, he’d asked Cas to help him with a little holiday research. Cas had been just as eager as Jack to find a way to bring a little happiness and warmth into their lives at what was otherwise the darkest time of the year. He’d agreed to help Jack decorate the bunker as a surprise gift to the rest of their family, and to help contact everyone to bring them to the bunker for just one day of rest and light and joy.

Most of the hunters from the Apocalypse World had made their own plans for the holidays. It had been more than a decade since they’d experienced a normal holiday in their world. Their home towns had been wiped off the map, but here in this world they could revisit a bright spot from their past, even if it would never really be the same. Others used the opportunity to drive out to the mountains to enjoy a holiday they never thought they’d have a chance to experience again-- skiing or sledding, or just enjoying a few days of quiet. Whatever their plans, the majority of them had confirmed they wouldn’t be back to the bunker until after New Year’s, when most of them were converging on Times Square for a spectacle they never believed they’d get the chance to witness again.

For most of the people that Jack considered family, though, the bunker was exactly where they wanted to be for the holiday.

Then there were the romance novels he’d taken to reading since his conversation with Dean about courting and love. The drive home from McCook had taken less than three hours, and Jack had used the time to learn as much as he could about romantic relationships from Dean. He’d found some of Dean’s answers to be enlightening in other ways, as well. And when he’d discovered the Secret Santa concept, he knew exactly how to put a few of Dean’s lessons into practice.

Jack had sat at his desk with a list of fourteen names-- all his closest friends and family and himself-- and set to work. He’d written each name on a slip of paper, only pulling Dean and Castiel out of the pile before randomly assigning everyone else to buy a gift for one other person. If Dean wouldn’t apply his romance novel lessons to his own life, then Jack felt this could be the perfect opportunity to give both him and Cas a nudge in the right direction.

When all his pairs were chosen, he began calling everyone on the list. One by one he gave everyone their assignments, and was gratified at the enthusiastic responses from everyone involved. It had taken hours of planning, and he was down to his last three assignments now. He’d been the most nervous about handing these to Sam, Cas, and Dean, but he knew if everyone else was excited for the gift exchange, then Dean would go along with it as well. He psyched himself up to talk to Cas first, armed with the envelope containing Dean’s name on a slip of paper and the promised participation of eleven of their loved ones.

“Mary just called to say that she and Bobby will be here,” Jack said, walking into the library to give Cas the latest update. “That’s the last RSVP.”

Cas nodded, looking up from the computer he’d been doing an important bit of research on. “We can go pick up everything we’ll need to prepare the meal, then.” He turned his notepad around to show Jack his shopping list and pointed at the computer screen displaying a recipe for cornbread stuffing. “This site advises that we’ll likely either need two turkeys to accommodate fourteen people, or perhaps a turkey and a ham.”

Jack looked at him funny for a second for clearly having included himself in the head count, but then Cas rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I might not need to eat, but food seems like an important social bonding aspect of this event. I also believe that leftovers are considered a necessity.”

Cas tried to maintain his facade of indifference, but the way Jack kept staring at him eventually pushed a small smile out of him. Jack responded with a knowing smile of his own.

“You’re just as excited about this party as I am,” Jack said quietly, as if it was a secret. “It’s okay, Cas. We all deserve to have something nice for once.”

Cas nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m planning on making the most of it. Who knows when the next time we’ll be able to get everyone together like this outside of an emergency or a catastrophe. This was a good idea, Jack. You’re doing a good thing, for all of us.”

Jack smiled broadly at the praise. It gave him a shot of courage he needed for the next phase of his plan.

“With so many of us here for Christmas, I wanted to make sure everyone had at least one gift to open. I read about something called a Secret Santa.”

Cas narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then recalled it wasn’t a lurking supernatural creature they’d need to deal with, but a common holiday custom. “Oh, I see. We’re assigned a person to buy a gift for, and it remains a secret until after everyone’s opened their presents.”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sealed envelope with Cas’s name written in red block letters across the front. “I took the liberty of assigning everyone a Secret Santa.”

He slowly slid the envelope across the table to Cas, who frowned at it like he expected it to catch fire. Cas slowly reached out, with an encouraging nod from Jack, and picked it up.

“I assume you know who everyone’s been assigned to?” Cas asked.

Jack shrugged. “I had to make sure I wasn’t assigning someone to buy a gift for themselves, so yes. But it’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone else.”

Cas thought over the list of people who’d be descending on the bunker for the holiday. He stared at the envelope in his hands.

“I don’t suppose you’ve already discussed this with Sam and Dean?”

Jack grinned at him. “I’m going to find them now, actually, but everyone I spoke with on the phone already has their assignments. Don’t worry. Dean won’t back out of it now, when the rest of his family has already agreed to participate.”

Jack pulled a fluffy red and white Santa hat out of his jacket pocket and shoved it on his head. He held an envelope in each hand, one marked Sam and the other marked Dean.

“I’ll be back in five minutes, and we can head out to the store.”

Cas watched him go with a fond smile on his face. This was definitely going to be a holiday to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [MittenWraith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith) on AO3.
> 
> Art in this chapter by [foxymoley](http://foxymoley.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley) on AO3. Go share your love and enjoy their other works!


	2. Jack - RaineWinchester67

Since Jack had drawn Sam’s name for this game of sorts, he’d been thinking about what he knew about the holiday. It’s wasn’t much, to be honest. He knew enough to know that this whole Secret Santa thing was a great idea. Anyway, Castiel had tried to tell him a little about the most wonderful time of the year, but he hadn’t experienced much of anything that would help him decide on what he wanted to get the youngest of the two Winchester brothers. He’d asked Sam and Dean what they knew about it with his trademark boyish grin on his face, wondering what kinds of mischief the boys must’ve gotten into when they knew Santa was in their house, planting gifts and goodies under their tree. What he got as an answer, though, wasn’t exactly what he expected. 

Dean mentioned something about when he was super little… something about cutting out sugar cookies with his mom. He said most of the dough had ended up in his mouth when her back was turned, and though he never got caught, looking back at the memory, he’s sure his mom knew what he was doing. Once in a great while, Jack got little tidbits of memories out of Sam and Dean about life when they were younger, but it seemed like they kept everything as locked up in their heads as possible. Compartmentalized, as Sam had called it. But the whole making treats thing? Of course, it sounded great to Jack, and he could picture the kind person Mary was now and how she and Dean must’ve bonded when they were both younger. Though he also knows that Dean told him how he tried to make Christmas a good experience for Sam, growing up on the road and all, and he said he ended up doing a l _ ess than bang-up _ job. Jack didn’t really know what he meant, but he figured by Dean’s tone that it wasn’t really a good thing. So was Christmas really all it was cracked up to be?

“Jolly Saint Nick hasn’t ever been great to us, kid. Sorry to burst your bubble,” Dean had said. He sounded disappointed by the fact that he couldn’t give him a better story, couldn’t make things seem more magical for him, but Jack knew that the world wasn’t always perfect. It was better he knew going into it, though, than just thinking everything was sunshine and unicorns all the time. He knew Dean well enough now to know he wouldn’t sugar coat anything, that he would tell it like it is, but Jack couldn’t help but try to stay positive. A part of him still believed that good things would happen to good people, and his family was full of the best kind of people. That’s why this Christmas would be the best one yet… he’d make sure of it.

“But… this year will be different,” Jack responded with his usual optimism. “I mean… I mean, we’re all together now, Dean. As a family. And… isn’t that what holidays are all about? Being with your family?”

Dean offered a smile, but somehow, it seemed more sad than happy. Dean’s smiles always looked a little more sad than happy. “Yeah… sure, sure. It’ll be great, kiddo. Just… don’t get Sammy a Barbie doll, alright?,” he said wryly, shaking his head at himself and clapping Jack on the back before walking away and muttering something about trying his best or something.

Jack wanted to ask more questions. He always had more questions, but he knew to leave Dean alone. He knew not to pry, especially not when Sam and Dean got those looks on their faces. The ones where they looked a little more tired than normal and seemed to have a few more wrinkles on their foreheads than they usually did. Those looks always came with a deafening silence that Jack couldn’t bear, so instead of bothering anyone else, he left it alone and instead took it upon himself to figure this all out. 

Jack decided to channel his inner-Sam and do what Sam does best: research. He hopped onto Sam’s laptop—he’d told him he could use it as long as he didn’t go on anything bad, though he didn’t really know what bad things he could look up other than maybe sad kittens. Cas showed him a video with sad kittens one time. Said they should adopt them, too, but Dean said there was no way in hell. At any rate, he turned to Google, and then stared at the screen. What should he type in? Christmas? Secret Santa? What should a nephilim get a hunter for a present? After fumbling around a bit with the wording, he settled on  _ Christmas gifts for boys _ and hoped that would work.

Scrolling past results like  _ what to get your boyfriend _ and  _ Christmas gifts for teenage boys _ , something caught Jack’s eye: Lightsabers R Us. He thought he remembered Dean talking about lightsabers. Did Sam like movies, though? No… not movies… books. Sam liked books. Shaking his head to unscramble his thoughts a bit, he kept scrolling down the page until he found a result that sounded helpful.  _ What you should get your guy for Christmas. _ Yes! That’s exactly what he was trying to find out.

Ten minutes later, Jack found himself looking at the results of the quiz he was led to that asked him questions like, “It’s Saturday morning. What is your guy doing?” He figured that  _ making you breakfast _ was a better answer than  _ keeping you in bed with his sexy charm _ . It was a little weird that it asked about whether or not Sam kept him in bed, because Sam was always an early riser, and plus, how did that apply to what he should get him for Christmas? He answered the question anyway because he had to figure out what this quiz was going to say. 

_ Some bootylicious undies for you know who. _ Bootylicious undies. Better Google it. 

Oh… oh. Alright. Well… he was sure Sam plenty of clothes… but he’d certainly take the idea under advisement. Maybe. 

But Jack didn’t want to stop there. Sam meant a lot to him. He was just as much a father to him as Castiel and even Dean, so he needed to show him how much he appreciated him. Sam had taken him under his wing. Well, not literally because Castiel was the angel, but still. Sam was always there for Jack, looking out for him, teaching him little things here and there, like how to perfectly fold his sweaters as to not get creases in them, how to cook his ramen to a perfect tenderness (though Sam told him to only eat ramen if there was no other option because “real food” was much better for him). Little things like that that people show you when you spend your time in the same house… or the same bunker, though Sam told him that people didn’t typically live in bunkers. The Winchesters were anything but typical, Jack had concluded, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was surrounded by kickass hunters who he now knew would go to the ends of the earth for him, and quite honestly, he’d do the same for them. Sam had spent a good deal of time helping Jack learn who he was as a person, understanding the world, what he liked and didn’t like, if he was more into nonfiction or fiction, and he had become a constant in his life. 

So, back to the drawing board he went. He knew Sam well enough to know that he had the coolest hair he’d ever seen, well… other than Dean’s, of course. While Dean had a nice quiff, he said that Sam had a Judd Nelson circa The Breakfast Club hairstyle going on, even though he said to never tell Sam he’d said so. He was sure he’d find something somewhere for Sam’s hair, but this whole research thing was taking too long. Filled with too much excitement to stare at a screen anymore, he decided to skip the rest of his research and go for a walk, or at least that’s what he told everyone before he left. 

Before heading out, he made some mental notes to himself to remember what he’d come up with, knowing there was an awesome drugstore not far into town that he and Dean went to before for a snack run. He knew it was awesome because they had just about every kind of candy bar you could want, and Dean was impressed by the little model cars that came in plastic packaging because even if they were just toys they were, in Dean’s words, pretty damn cool. And, apparently, they had some of the best drugstore brand frozen pizza. Dean had eaten the whole thing on his own, but Jack trusted his judgement. So, of course, this store was the obvious choice.

Jack barely heard the half-hearted greeting from the cashier as he entered the store, the grin on his face nearly equal to that of a kid in a toy store. As soon as he walked inside, he saw the red and green decorations covering just about every inch of the store, the words Happy Holidays everywhere he looked. On one of the festive signs, he also read  _ gifts for him _ . Perfect. Walking over to the section filled with presents from hot sauce samplers to grilling accessories, Jack spent at least ten minutes simply letting his eyes wander over all the options. Standing in one place for that long led to a slightly confused but mostly annoyed employee coming over in their bright red vest to ask if he needed assistance. Little did they know that they’d probably regret asking when Jack launched into an animated monologue about his search for the perfect gift for Sam. 

“Yes, actually! I came up with this awesome idea, and now we’re doing Secret Santa with my family!” Jack beams at the employee—whose name is Lauren according to her name badge—who immediately feels like walking away. Talk about bah humbug… 

“Okay? And… you need help picking something out?” Lauren asked out of obligation, and Jack nodded eagerly in response. She stood and blinked at Jack, having expected him to explain who he was buying for. When remained silent, she shook her head and impatiently continued. “Who’s the gift for, then?”

“Well, he's like one of my dads, I guess. I have three of those. Dads, I mean. And he's tall... I mean like... so tall. And he always wears plaid, and he's always running his hands through his hair.” Jack’s eyes never strayed away from the shelves that were filled with gift after gift, and Lauren watched him with wide eyes. “Did I mention his hair is long? Like really long? Anyways, there's so many of us, and I have Sam. He's the one I'm telling you about, you know, one of my dads? I had some ideas of what I could get him, but look at all the options. Wait!” Something caught Jack’s eye, and before he knew it, he’d snatched it up off the shelf and turned to the employee. “Thanks for your help!” he said with his radiant smile before wandering to the next aisle.

As Jack walked down the next Christmas aisle, the one filled with ornaments and different keepsakes, he admired the present in his hands. A deluxe box of nougat-filled chocolates. He’d seen the remnants of his entire stash of candy bars in the kitchen trash after he’d returned from Heaven, and he just knew that, no matter how many lectures on healthy eating Sam had given him Sam had a secret fondness for his favorite sweets.

Reaching the end of the aisle, he saw a display of different mementos… little gingerbread figurines that held signs saying  _ let it snow _ , miniature stockings reading  _ baby’s first Christmas _ . Oh, and the most perfect gift that Jack could’ve ever come up with for Sam. Jack’s face lit up as he grabbed the present and headed to check out, grabbing some nougat-filled candy bars for himself on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [supernaturalfamfiction](http://supernaturalfamfiction.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [RaineWinchester67](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineWinchester67) on AO3. Go share your love and enjoy their other works!


	3. Sam - by wigglebox

Sam got a late start on his Secret Santa. He had a limited budget, and no idea what to get Bobby. 

Not Bobby. 

Sam had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t their Bobby as he brainstormed gift ideas on a pad of paper, feeling like an idiot. Their Bobby would be easy to get a secret Santa for. Feather down vest or some new flannel shirts; a new gun; a week-long vacation up in the woods and hunting deer or whatever. That was easy. 

This Bobby, however, had them stumped most times. It took a while for Sam to even get this man to look him in the eye, let alone address him in a tone that wasn’t a father scolding his son for crashing the family car.

Sam liked this Bobby well enough, he kept Mary happy and was a good helping hand around the bunker, but he and Sam never connected. After Sam pulled Bobby’s name from the Santa hat, his spirits sank. This Bobby had traces of the original, but had a completely different personality. He even once had a biological son. 

No connection, no clue-- Sam wanted to rip his hair out. 

He couldn’t ask his mother for help, that would give the surprise away. He tried brainstorming gifts he could get for the both of them, but figured it would be better to see Bobby as an individual, and not the arm candy of his mother. 

So Sam sat, and thought. With three days to go before Christmas, Sam sat in the hub, watching Bobby move around the bunker. He kept his eye on what books the man picked up, what alcohol he gravitated towards. He paid attention to conversations even though they weren’t directed at Sam. 

But nothing came to mind, and time was running out. 

The worst wasn’t Bobby’s ultimate let down when Sam got the wrong present, but Jack’s face of disappointment. He was so excited about this secret Santa business that it just had to happen. No ifs-ands-or-buts about it. 

With two days left before Christmas, Sam entered full panic mode. 

Bobby was such a private man, it was hard to break that barrier needed to give a thoughtful gift. At one point, Sam toyed with the idea of just getting the man a gift basket full of a bunch of things from one of those gift shops in town. It would be okay, he rationalized, because they didn’t know Bobby that well, and this was a gift you got someone who you didn’t know that well but needed to provide some sort of Christmas… something. 

But Sam didn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. For one, it seemed a bit extravagant. Sam didn’t mind bending the rules but bending it for a man who might not even like the present seemed illogical. Second, it still seemed so impersonal. All the other gifts he knew would be well thought out. A basket full of chocolate and coffee seemed like filler. It said: Hey I don’t know you but I’m contractually obligated to get you something and to make myself feel better about myself I’m getting you a basket prepared by someone else with things you don’t even like. 

Sam never cared for Christmas, and this whole exercise was making him just downright hate it. 

The day before Christmas eve, and Sam’s luck finally turned.  Most everyone had left the bunker for the day on various errands to run. Sam figured he had the bunker to himself.  He didn’t want to stay in any of the big rooms alone. Over the past several months he had gotten so used to the dull hum around him from everyone, that sitting alone in silence in such a cavernous space felt unnerving. 

On the way back to his room, he heard some humming echoing down the hall. It seemed lively enough, and it was a Christmas song for sure, though Sam couldn’t pinpoint where he had heard it before. The humming was low, and slightly off-key, but it was persistent. 

As Sam approached the noise, he saw it was coming from inside Bobby’s room, his door cracked open to the hallway. His room was on a hallway corner, so Sam was hidden behind the wall. He couldn’t see into the room, but it sounded like Bobby was alone. 

Sam heard ruffling of pages as Bobby changed the tune to something more peppy, a melody that seemed to contradict this Bobby’s personality. In less than a second, Sam recognized the tune as a Christmas song. While the melody drifted through the door, Sam thought on the singer, but couldn’t place the name. In the minute it took for Sam to place the name, Bobby started to drift into another song that finally flipped the lightbulb on in Sam’s brain. 

Bobby was singing some off-key version of an Elvis Christmas song, something about Santa bringing a girlfriend back to him or something like that. Sam only remembered that song because it was the only thing the jukebox would play at the diner back in 1996 on Christmas Eve. Sam hated the song. 

But Bobby bounced from that song to White Christmas, to I’ll Be Home to Christmas, and finally singing Silent Night with the actual lyrics.  By the time Bobby finished his private concert, Sam knew what he’d get the old man. 

On Christmas Morning, Sam once again felt idiotic. Everyone would be unwrapping very personal things, or things that brought lights to their eyes. Sam’s gift for Bobby was small, and he wasn’t even sure how personal it was. 

The excitement of getting the CD brought him to the store, but by the time he was driving home the second thoughts started to creep in. What if it was just an earworm Bobby had? What if he actually hated Elvis? What if Elvis reminded him of the world he left behind?

But Sam had run out of time. That night he had to wrap the gift and shove it under the tree with everyone else’s. He felt like a hack, and woke up Christmas morning in a foul mood. He got up and went in search of coffee to help him face the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [wigglebox](http://wigglebox.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [wigglebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	4. Bobby - by Casloveshisfreckles

When they got the call from the kid, Bobby knew it was trouble. These days, every call coming from the bunker was trouble. It felt like they’d just gotten back from the last terrible phone call, the one that had Bobby hauling ass across all of God’s creation to get Mary back to her boys. She tried to convince Jack to come back with them and rest at Donna’s cabin for a while but he passed in favor of staying to hunt. 

Bobby’s first instinct was to bristle at the invitation. Being in the bunker was fine, but after what happened with their last case and that goddamn djinn pretending to be—Truth be told, Bobby was kind of looking forward to a quiet Christmas with Mary. The cabin they’d be given to use was real nice, full of comfortable couches and pillows, hell the bed was the softest thing Bobby’s ever slept in in his entire life, even before the Apocalypse. Him and Karen had a nice home, she did her best with what they had, but their old bed couldn’t compete. 

They’d been gettin’ along good too, almost like they did back in Bobby’s old world, bad as it was. Him and Mary’d connected there over things that went beyond survival. Weird thing was, it had all just gotten harder and harder to talk about, less stuff they had to run from. 

At first, being alone was terrible and Bobby had been close to calling it a few times. He was old, and some days his bones felt too weary for another day of awkward silences and Mary’s attempts at lightening the mood. It didn’t take long for her to reach her limit; Bobby would never consider Mary a patient woman, and it took one good ass kicking to get him to stop being surly. 

Now that surliness was back at the idea of their peaceful bubble gettin’ popped. 

Until the kid got on the phone.

“Bobby, I’ve paired you with Mary,” Jack stated, always straight to the point, this one. “I felt bad, not taking her up on the invitation to stay with you, and I thought you’d be the best at knowing exactly what to get her. To cheer her up.” 

Bobby could almost hear the innocent enthusiasm in Jack’s matter-of-fact tone. 

“Think so, do ya?” Bobby said absentmindedly, pulling off his hat and scratching at the hair he had left, already thinking how bad he was gonna screw this up. 

“I do,” Jack paused. “Don’t you?” 

Bobby heaved a sigh. “Sure, kid. I’ll figure somethin’ out.” No use getting Jack all worked up. It wasn't like Bobby had never had to buy Christmas presents before. Hell, before the apocalypse, one might even have called Bobby Singer downright jolly back in the day. 

But that was then.

“Excellent, then we’ll see the both of you shortly.” The phone went silent in Bobby’s hand. Shortly? Christmas wasn’t for another five days. 

That was when Bobby noticed Mary packing. 

Her smile was bright when she noticed him noticing. “Jack asked us to come now, says he has a lot of festivities planned.” Her eyes were so fond, it almost made Bobby feel bad for immediately wanting to say no. 

“Sounds great,” he told her. “If you don’t mind gettin’ us packed up, I’ll go gas up the truck.” 

That smile Bobby liked so much hadn’t left her face and she nodded once at him and went back to packing. She hummed Jingle Bells under her breath and it took Bobby back to a simpler time, with Karen and Daniel and the few holidays they got as a family, before the world went to hell. Karen used to hum when she was happy. 

He watched her for another beat before leaving the cabin, his mind still swirling with Christmases past. 

The drive to Lebanon went a lot faster when it didn’t feel like they were rolling towards or away from imminent death. Bobby even made it to hour six before the Christmas music Mary insisted on was turned off before he broke the stereo in the truck. She kept smiling all the way through to the bunker telling Bobby stories of memorable hunts she’d been on, a particularly funny one about a nest of vamps setting up a fake holiday blood drive one year in some small town in Texas. 

By the time they reached the bunker, night had fallen, and the couple exchanged easy smiles. “I’m so excited we decided to come,” Mary told him with a squeeze to his arm before they’re pushing their way into the bunker. 

The moment Jack caught sight of them, he approached them and handed Bobby a Santa hat with that hopeful and innocent little smile that Bobby couldn’t bear to disappoint. 

“Bobby, I discussed it with Sam and Dean and they agree that you’d make an excellent Santa,” he stated. He watched Bobby expectantly while Mary wore a shit eating grin by his side.

“Do they,” he muttered, not even trying to say no. Truth be told, between Mary’s happy smile and the music and now the decorations, he could feel the jolliness creeping in. He took the Santa hat and tried to at least look irritated when he pulled it down over his head. “Happy now?” 

The kid’s wide smile told Bobby what a dumb question that was. “You don’t have to wear it now, Christmas is still a few days away. Unless you’d prefer to, of course.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes and snatched the hat off his head. “Let’s not give them all the goods too soon.” 

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head while he worked out what Bobby meant. Mary shook her head fondly and pushed at Bobby’s shoulder before she wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders to guide him away and Bobby heard her asking Jack about the hunt he and Castiel had just returned from. 

Bobby guessed it was up to him to get them settled, and he gathered their bags to haul them to their room. He took some time to unpack their bags, Mary’s old room now theirs to share, pretenses all but dropped after they went off together. Bobby was surprised at the lack of resistance from her sons, Dean especially, to the thought of him with their mom. Wearing a familiar face, although weird at first, had always helped him be taken seriously by the Winchesters, almost right off the bat. 

After his initial instinct to kill them all passed, Bobby found the hunters to be cunning and smart and, well, they’d saved all their hides from Michael and their decimated world and honestly, things on the other side of the rift had not been bad to Bobby Singer and now it’s Christmas and heck if he hadn’t found himself a little family to share it with. 

The thought helped the ice around his heart melt that much more and he was actually eager not to be isolated for once. He tugged on the Santa hat the kid gave him, checking his reflection and straightening it a bit before leaving their room. 

He’d written off even the idea of Christmas, the traditions surprisingly being one of the last fading things of his old world. People had a deeply rooted need for hope and somehow, celebrating Christmas always seemed to re-energize the factions. Bobby had stop celebrating or even thinking of the day after he’d lost Daniel.  Seemed fitting Bobby would remember him today. He’d have really enjoyed the bunker. 

Bobby stared into the lights of the Christmas tree when Mary slipped an arm around his waist. “You doin’ okay?” She asked, joining him in admiring the tree.

“Sure didn’t miss all these people runnin’ around,” he mused, his arm going around Mary’s shoulders, her blonde hair catching and ticking his beard. “But this ain’t so bad.” 

Bobby could see her smile out of the corner of his eye and he held her just a little tighter. 

He’d never been a late sleeper. Hell, four hours was considered a luxury in Bobby’s world. With Mary, he’d found he could sleep in, but really no later than five or six in the morning. 

Bobby was pleased to follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen but came up short in the doorway, not expecting to see Dean and the angel sitting at the table, steaming mugs between them.

Whatever they were talking about, they were caught up in it, not even noticing Bobby while they chatted. He felt bad interrupting; both men relaxed for once, smiling. Bobby even pretended not to notice the way their feet were tangled together under the table. 

He took a loud, purposeful step and the two men straightened where they were leaning towards each other, the only indication that Bobby’s interrupting something because both their faces are wiped clean of any previous joy. 

That wasn’t for Bobby.

“Mornin’ fellas,” he greeted them, shortly. “Just gonna grab me a cup and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“You’re welcome to sit, Dean was about to make waffles,” Castiel offered, ignoring Dean’s confused objection. Bobby shook his head and pulled out one of the travel mugs some of the kids stashed in the kitchen. 

“No thanks, gotta get on the road.” 

“I’m heading out, got a few places to check out,” he screwed the lid shut on his mug and tipped it at the two men still at the table before he headed for the garage. Idjits probably didn’t even realize they were still playing footsie when he left.

The drive to Kearney wasn’t too long, and he pulled up to Cabela’s as they opened. There was a Cracker Barrel in the same parking lot that didn’t look to crowded and he’s easily lured in by the call of some good old steak and eggs. It helped as he walked laps around Cabela’s, considering so many things as he went; a new dark blue canvas jacket, lined in matching flannel. Could be good for their morning walks around the cabin. 

He looked at a new pair of boots but didn’t really think they’d make Mary happy. Then again, she was a practical woman, it’s something he liked about her. But Bobby could buy her new boots anytime. This store was packed with choices, way too many for Bobby but he was happy to narrow his options when he went up to the second floor and finds the selection of knives and firearms. 

He laughed off the pink handled one, thinking Mary would stab or shoot him with whatever he tried to give her that was color coded to be sold to girls. Bobby figured Mary was ok in the arsenal department, given her kids. Plus she carried around an old gun of John’s that Dean had stashed in the Impala and she seemed to favor it. 

Bobby was past the point of irritable when he clomped back down the stairs, avoiding other people’s kids running amok by the North Pole get up they had out for Christmas. He left, angry at himself for being so undecided. 

He turned the truck south sticking to the quiet country roads he’d found he liked. At first it was a shock, to just get in a car and drive. He’d forgotten what it was like. The loneliness of those back roads was like a balm when he first got here and Bobby took the opportunity to use them when he could. 

It was on one of these roads that he noticed a rusty tin can of a billboard, the name Beaver Salvage barely readable under the wear of weather and the road and what looked to be an eternity beside it. Ten miles later, another sign, this one riddled with bullet holes, no doubt shot there by some dumbass teenagers out for a joyride in their daddy’s truck. 

It was between this one and the sign telling him to take the next right that Bobby decided to stop. Something Mary mentioned a few nights back niggled at his memory, another hunter's tale, or maybe it was a story of her time with John; truth is, Bobby just liked to listen to her talk, so he’s got a good collection of her memories rattling around in his old brain and they sometimes blur together. 

She spoke so fondly about one car in particular, an early seventies Camaro, said it was her favorite car, royal blue with a black stripe and fast as all get out. Mary had a lead foot and couldn’t stand to drive Bobby’s old truck, he thought maybe it might be time to get her a little something of her own. 

The owner, an old fella named Jim, offered him a beer and a tour of his salvage yard and it’s like Bobby had deja vu, maybe because of the layout of the place, or something about the way Jim pushed himself around in his wheelchair, rolling over bumps and divots in the worn ground and refusing any help from Bobby. 

He lead them straight back to a shell of a car, hardly enough left to call it that, truth be told but it was a 72’ Camaro alright and it was perfect. 

Dean was the car guy and Bobby’s first phone call. They had a strange, tentative respect for each other—  Bobby suspected he wouldn’t trust anyone with his mom but again, he thought he had his face to thank on this one. That, and Bobby hoped, the fact that he could hold his own on a hunt. 

Only took about forty minutes for Dean to show up in the Ram, his silent angel riding shotgun, towing an empty flatbed behind them. Jim expressed a lot of doubts that the three of them alone would be able to get the car on the truck but all he could do was raise his eyebrows and watch, never able to figure out how the one wearing the trench coat seemed to hold the entire front end with the three hundred pound engine block in it all by himself. 

Bobby was pretty pleased with himself as he followed behind Dean, the flatbed swaying slightly on the road, Mary’s new car being towed back to the bunker where, once spring came, granted everything’s kosher, they could start to rebuild it for her. 

He could already picture Mary behind the wheel: the sun in her hair, and that smile on her face as they raced down empty highways, Bobby studiously ignoring the rising odometer and just enjoying the time they had together.

Jack was waiting for them when they pulled the vehicles into the garage, wearing a god awful apron covered in dancing snowmen and singing Christmas trees. Bobby and Dean both frowned at it but Castiel seemed to like it, nodding appreciatively before hauling the frame of the car into one of the empty work bays. Dean helped him throw a sheet over it and they grinned at each other over the top of the car while Dean promised he could help. 

Looked to Bobby like the angel was interested in more than just the mechanics of the car but what does he know. 

“Bobby, I don’t think that’s going to fit under the tree.” Jack sounded uncertain as he eyed the hulking frame. “Unless maybe Aunt Rowena has a spell.”

Bobby barked out a sharp laugh and clasped Jack by the shoulder. “Kid, we’re not puttin’ the car under the tree. I’m gonna wrap up a Chevy keychain and make it into a thing, alright? Don’t you worry about it.” 

Jack, relieved, tightened his lips and nodded. “Excellent, then,” He turned those bright, hopeful eyes back on Bobby. “Now, we’re baking Christmas cookies in the kitchen.” He watched Bobby expectantly. 

It’s with a put upon sign and a wry grin that he swapped his trucker hat for the Santa hat he stashed in his coat. It made Jack grin. 

“That’s going to match the Christmas apron I have for you perfectly!”

Balls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [casloveshisfreckles](http://casloveshisfreckles.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [Casloveshisfreckles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casloveshisfreckles) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	5. Mary - by lizbobjones

Time travel had some serious confusing issues; one of them was that Mary’s year and a half-old grandson had given her more advice on how to Christmas shop than she’d ever gleaned from her adult sons who were older than her.

To be fair on them, they didn’t seem to have much concept of Christmas shopping either, but she had a horrible headache already from the crowds and blaring music and lights of the mall and no one seemed to know how to help. Not her hardened hunter sons, her even more hardened Apocalypse-world beau, and her next port of call was also apocalypse-hardened but at least seemed to have been sort of socialised at some point, but Charlie was the name Jack had cheerfully bestowed on her.

Mary gulped down another swig of too-hot gingerbread latte and wondered what, exactly, she would say if she phoned up Arthur to ask him for his advice on what to get a former tech-geek turned rebel leader turned avid monster hunter.

There was an unspoken rule that she’d gleaned that they weren’t supposed to get each other huge musty lore books.

And so she was out here watching Christmas shoppers flood by getting in a last Christmas shop before everything closed and peace would supposedly fall on the world for a few days of snow and feasting.

The last Christmas she had celebrated, she worked out, was when she had been four months pregnant with Sam, and Dean had been old enough to sneak looks in his presents but not old enough to be subtle about it. She had, she supposed, skipped a decade or so of tantrums and dealing with two boys. Having a daughter would have been nice. She’d always wanted to have one and raise her up all pretty and pink and not a hunter and lavish everything on her she hadn’t had herself.

She downed the last of her latte, and self-consciously dabbed the milk moustache away with the paper napkin. Resolve and caffeine powered her out of the Starbucks she’d hidden in, and she took a deliberate path to the Macy’s that stood watch over the far end of the mall.

Christmas was so much bigger – more overwhelming with products and decorations – than it had been when she was young. Two years or thirty five ago, depending on how you looked at it. For Mary the world had transformed overnight.

The press of people in the department store, on the last day of shopping, set off every nerve. She was a small town girl raised with hunter instincts. Even among mostly harried moms and hurrying young people, Mary’s hackles still found reasons to rise, anyone who looked at her too long, anyone avoiding being looked at.

Right up the front of the shop were stacked displays of last-minute gift ideas; bath products, perfumes and cologne, toy sets, biscuit tins with tartan over shortbread almost certainly not baked in Scotland. A theme of ‘for dad’ suggested itself on that table, with over-packaged taster selections of whiskey and bourbon, and she realised that if she were hurrying a Christmas Eve shop with a seven-month old Sam in a stroller, Dean toddling wildly ahead of her somewhere, she’d be grabbing this for John as she battled for the ordeal to be over and done with.

She elbowed her way into racks of festive sweaters for a respite, and pulled out her phone, the auto-dialling an unfair modern temptation.

“Hey-ho,” an obnoxious voice trilled down the other end after one and a half rings.

“Ketch. What do I get Charlie for Christmas?”

“My goodness, Mary – cheating on your shopping?”

“Oh, don’t patronise me. You spent a few weeks being ‘chums’ with her in Apocalypse World. What do I get her?” There was unfair annoyance in her words as she belatedly felt a pang of guilt for not calling Bobby, who had, after all, worked with Charlie for years. But this was so not in his wheelhouse.

“I have found that she’s awfully good with throwing knives. A well-balanced set would –”

“I’m in Macy’s, Arthur.”

“—Ah.”

“Please, just… Help me.”

“You really did leave things to the last minute, didn’t you?”

“C’mon, you wear all those prissy suits, you know good taste and stuff like that.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll find so much of that among those mid-range home goods…”

She had wandered until she was face-to-face with a cushion emblazoned with a bug-eyed pug. In sequins. She declined to answer.

“You know what, this was a mistake. I can work out what to buy on my own, thanks.”

“You called me, Mary.”

“Bye.”

She heard a faint, “Toodle-oo,” as she pulled the phone from her ear and jabbed the end call button.

She took a deep breath, and moved deeper still into the maze of the store, looking at a huge range of lamps with little interest.

What did you get someone fresh over from an apocalypse? Charlie was starting over from scratch on all her interests. Would some of these cinnamon or ‘pine log fire’ scented candles be a joke? Just because it was secret didn’t mean she shouldn’t try. She liked Charlie. And doing this wrong would feel awful just for Jack’s sake…

She stopped in the section of kitchen goods, and stared at shelves and displays of gadgets and small appliances. Brightly coloured spoons and ridiculously tiny pans. Who needed all this? Mary didn’t know the first thing about what was good to have in a kitchen.

But then… Charlie had only just agreed to settle nearby, not to flee and try and start over far from monsters and the mayhem of their lives. Had she even finished signing all the fake paperwork to get an apartment in town with all the rest of the refugees? Did she even own a kettle yet?

Mary had been focussing so selfishly on all her problems that she hadn’t even asked herself what Charlie actually needed.

She honed in on a cute little yellow kettle, serendipitously exactly on budget, and Mary bolted for the cashier.

She snagged a box each of the little whiskey selections for her boys, and a novelty snowman tie for Cas in a fit of madness. Jack, of course, got a huge tin of different types of fudge. She got to the counter before she guiltily doubled back to get another box of the whiskey selections for Bobby.

She figured she was breaking the rules of the secret santa enough with the bounds of being the mom, grandma, girlfriend, that the generic tone of the extra goodies could be overlooked and slipped to them later.

It was crazy, and wonderful, enough that she had all these people to buy for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [elizabethrobertajones](http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [lizbobjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizbobjones) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	6. Charlie - by faerie_lights

Charlie hung up the phone and sat looking at on her lap for several minutes. Secret Santa. Only Jack would think up something like this. Former all powerful being or not, he really was just a sweet kid at heart and it made it impossible to say no to him. Especially since, apparently, he died recently? Charlie wasn’t entirely sure she’d understood that story.  But he’d somehow puppy eyed her over the phone and now she was roped into this Secret Santa thing. She smiled in spite of herself, thinking of Jack and his perpetually hopeful face. It was hard, trying not to get attached to these people. After losing Kara, she’d closed off her heart. It just hurt so much. Even thinking of her hurt, all those sweet memories of her, singing while she baked, dancing around the kitchen, flour dusting her freckled nose. Charlie had put those memories away, buried them deep so they couldn’t spring up and hurt her. She shook herself, trying to clear her head and set the phone down on the piece of paper where she’d written down the details of Jack’s Christmas plan. A name stood out, written in dark, bold letters, underlined twice. Rowena. Another one she’d tried not to get attached to. And now Charlie was her Secret Santa? Damn, she thought, what on earth do you buy a 300-year-old witch for Christmas? 

  
  


The Bunker

 

“Loud isn’t it?” The Scottish brogue slid under the din filling the bunker. Charlie looked around for the source. Sitting in a chair with a smirk on her face was an elegant, red haired woman. She held out a cut glass tumbler. 

“Me?” Charlie asked. “I mean are you talking to me?” The red-haired woman’s smirk deepened. 

“I am.” She waggled the glass. Charlie took it from her hand peering somewhat suspiciously at the amber liquid filling it. She sniffed it surreptitiously. 

“Whiskey, of course,” said the red-haired woman in answer to Charlie’s unasked question. “Or scotch, if you will.” Charlie took a sip. 

“It’s good.”

“Of course it is. I’m Scottish.” The woman winked at Charlie over the rim of her own glass. 

“Got a name, Scottish?” She wasn’t kidding about the whiskey. It was fiery and warm all the way down to her belly and Charlie couldn’t remember the last time she could actually relax and enjoy a drink. Of late, all drinks had been swigged quickly from a flask on the battlefield or during strategy sessions. It felt odd to stand there, in a warm, bright room drinking good scotch from a cut glass tumbler. 

“Rowena,” the woman answered, her brogue seeming even thicker for a moment. “Rowena MacLeod.” 

“I’m Charlie Bradbury,” Charlie offered in return.

“Oh, I know who you are, dear.” Rowena peered searchingly at her face. “I knew her. The other you.” Something cold wormed its way into Charlie’s chest through the heat of the liquor. This is going to be a recurring theme, she thought. Explaining to these people that she isn’t their dead friend. All at once she was exhausted. Rowena’s face took on a calculating look as she watched Charlie plunk herself down in a chair. 

“Tired?” She asked. Charlie nodded. “Let’s find you a room.” She offered a hand and Charlie allowed herself to be pulled from the chair and led down a hallway filled with doors. Rowena muttered to herself as they passed rooms. 

“Well that one’s Sam’s and there’s Dean’s. I think this is the one they set up for Castiel. Wouldn’t do to have him to far from Dean, now would it? And Mary over here. Oh! I think this one’s free.” She pushed open a door to dim room. Charlie quickly took stock. It was spartan. A chair and desk against the wall. No windows, of course. No decor of any kind. But mercifully a bed. She flopped face first onto it, ignoring the dust. She was used to sleeping rough. She had been for some time now and the musty bed was the height of comfort comparatively. 

“Do you want to shake it out or anything, dear?” Rowena’s lilting voice faded quickly as Charlie slipped into sleep. 

“Mmpfh,” she mumbled. 

“Sleep well, Charlie,” she heard Rowena whisper as sleep finally claimed her. 

 

The next few days were difficult. The new world was... jarring. It wasn’t so bad when she was in the bunker but when they went out, to the town, Charlie almost couldn’t breathe from the startling mix of familiarity and strangeness. As the days became weeks, she started to become restless. Living a normal life felt wrong. The people going about their daily business felt wrong. It felt wrong to get up and take a shower and get dressed and have nothing to do but catch up on pop culture. Slowly she began to go stir crazy in the bunker. And that’s when Rowena reappeared. Charlie was just finishing the most recent Star Wars movie when there was a sharp rap on her door. Still pondering the implications of Luke Skywalkers’ disappearance, she opened the door expecting to see Dean or Sam but there in her resplendent glory was Rowena. 

“Hello, dear,” she trilled. “I had a thought that you might be getting a trifle bored here in the underground black hole of no fun so I came to see if you’d like a bit of adventure.” A slow smile spread across Charlie’s face as she thought about what “adventure” might mean to this gale wind force of a woman. 

“What kind of an adventure?” 

“Well a road trip, I suppose. There’s a grimoire I’ve heard about and I believe I’ve tracked down the shaman who possesses it. He’s in Arizona. Fancy a trip through the American Southwest, dear?”

“They told me you’re a witch. Like a crazy powerful witch. Can’t you just zap yourself there and back?”

“Perhaps, I could. But wouldn’t this be more fun?” Charlie shrugged and Rowena narrowed her eyes. “Pack a bag, dear. I’ll meet you in the car.”

  
  


Present Day 

 

The mall was noisy and crowded and Charlie regretted her decision to go there almost immediately. In no more than five minutes, no less than three people crashed into her as they rushed from store to store shopping frantically. She sighed and brushed her hands through her hair, setting her jaw and steeling herself to just find something already. But this place was crazy. Was she really going to find a gift for Rowena at a freaking Things Remembered? Another frazzled shopper bumped into her, knocking her back against the wall. Sighing, she ducked into the nearest store to avoid any more collisions. Inside it was quiet and peaceful. Long tables displayed jewelry and trinkets on purple velvet cloths. Charlie ran her fingers over them, smiling when she came to a tray filled with silver and turquoise. She and Rowena had certainly seen a good amount of that on their trip. She picked up a bracelet studded with the stuff and closed her eyes, remembering.

 

Guymon, Oklahoma

 

They made it to Oklahoma before Charlie got to see Rowena use her magic. They were driving through Guymon, a town that Charlie’s brain insisted on pronouncing with a Jamaican accent. Five minutes into Guymon and the car began making an extremely worrying squealing noise.

“What is it, do you think?” Charlie asked, lifting the hood and peering underneath.  She knew literally nothing about cars but she leaned over the engine hoping whatever was wrong would just be obvious. It was not. She turned to look at Rowena who was holding up a finger with her phone pressed to her ear.

“A belt? And where would that be on this engine thing?” She nodded, listening. “Okay, Dean. Thank you. No we can handle it. No we are not coming back because of some engine nonsense. Mmmhmm. Goodbye Dean.” She moved to stand next to Charlie, rolling her eyes theatrically.

“What did he say? Did he know what’s wrong?” 

“A belt is probably loose or fraying, he says. He wanted us to come back. How ridiculous. Can you imagine?” Rowena continued to mutter to herself as she raised her hands over the engine. Purple light began to gather around her fingertips, slowly moving down to engulf her hands completely. Charlie watched, enraptured as Rowena placed her glowing hands on the engine and spoke a sharp command. The light shot through the engine, winding itself around the wires and gears and then quickly returned to Rowena’s hands and disappeared.

“There we are.  Good as new.” Rowena indicated to Charlie that she should close the hood. Still staring at the woman nonchalantly examining her nails next to her, Charlie lifted the hood off of the pole propping up and let it drop. They got back into the car and Charlie started the engine. There wasn’t even a trace of the former squealing. 

“That was awesome,” she said. “You must save a fortune in auto repair.” Rowena laughed. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said with a wink.

 

Albuquerque, New Mexico

 

They stopped for the night in Albuquerque. Charlie pointed out a motel that looked fairly cheap and Rowena pealed with laughter. 

“Not on your life, dear,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Head downtown. That’s where the nice hotels are.” 

And that’s how Charlie found herself standing in the lobby of the Hotel Chaco, the fanciest hotel she had ever set foot in.  Bewildered she watched Rowena sweet talk the concierge until she turned around with both an electronic key card and a brilliant smile. Ten minutes later, Charlie was sitting on the fluffiest bed, in the nicest room she’d ever seen watching Rowena unpack what seemed like two hundred pairs of shoes.

“Shoes are important, Charlie dear. One can never have too many shoes.” Charlie reached out and touched the closest pair. A bolt of sadness shot through her.

“Kara loved shoes,” she said with a rueful smile. “She would’ve flipped to see your collection.”

“Kara?” Rowena tilted her head. She looked like an inquisitive bird.

“She was my girlfriend. Before. She...she died.” The sadness clutched her around the throat. “There was fighting. After the angels started their war. There was a fire…” Charlie looked at Rowena helplessly, unable to continue. The older woman laid her hand on the younger woman’s arm. And for a moment they sat in silence, remembering those they’d loved and those they’d lost.

 

Phoenix, Arizona

 

“Double redheads, double my luck,” the man leaning on the table in front of them reeked of alcohol. Charlie and Rowena glared at him as he crept closer to them, leering.

“Very uninterested, sir.” Charlie’s voice practically had icicles hanging from it but the man was too drunk to notice. 

“What are you two pretty ladies doing eating all by yourselves? It’s a travesdy… a tradjesty… its a crime is what it is,” he slurred, attempting to pull out one of the empty chairs.  Charlie hooked her foot around it firmly. 

“Dude, get lost,” she snapped. “We literally couldn’t be less interested.” The man narrowed his eyes at her. She glared back at him.

“So you’re the mean one huh?” He turned to Rowena, knocking over a water glass in the process. “Are you nicer than your friend?” Rowena put her finger on the table and the water that had been flowing toward her lap came to an abrupt stop.

“I am most certainly not and since my friend has asked you to kindly bugger off and you have not listened…” She spoke a few words in a language Charlie didn’t recognize and gestured toward the drunk.

“Што вы сказалі?” the man said. Both he and Charlie started, surprised by the unfamiliar syllables. Rowena snickered. “Што я магу сказаць?”

“What did you do?” Charlie whispered to Rowena as the man began shouting in a panic. Rowena’s smile was just bit smug. 

“He only speaks Belarusian now.” Charlie laughed as waiters gathered around the man hustling him off as he yelled and flailed. Rowena held up her drink and Charlie clinked her glass against it.

“Што са мной адбываецца?” screamed the man as he was forcibly ejected from the restaurant. Charlie and Rowena watched wearing identical smirks. 

 

Yuma, Arizona

 

“I’ll have the filet mignon, dear.” Rowena patted the waiter on the arm and favored him with a brilliant smile. He looked at Charlie expectantly. She shrugged. 

“Same, I guess.” The waiter hurried off to the kitchen, leaving the women alone at the table. Charlie watched Rowena look around the restaurant approvingly and not for the first time wondered why she had been invited on this trip. 

“Ask it.” Rowena’s soft Scottish voice startled Charlie out of her thoughts. 

“Huh?” she fumbled inelegantly. 

“Ask your question, Charlie. You been wanting to ask me since I proposed this little road trip. Ask me.” Charlie cocked her head to the side and peered curiously at the witch. 

“Ok,” she said. “Why? Why did you invite me on this trip. Why me?” Rowena’s smile settled into something softer, something sadder. 

“I knew her, you know. Your counterpart in this universe. I knew her.” Charlie bristled immediately as she did whenever someone brought up her dead doppelgänger. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, dear. I more than knew her. I was one of the last people to see her alive. In fact, I carry a good deal of guilt about what happened to that girl.” Charlie huffed in annoyance. 

“I’m not her,” she snapped. “I’m sick of explaining that.” Rowena favored Charlie with a long, knowing look that unsettled her. 

“I know you aren’t her. And I know you must resent being treated like you’re a replacement for her.” Rowena’s face was full of sympathy and Charlie choked down a sob. 

“I resent her.” she whispered, fisting her hands against the white tablecloth. “I resent that she got to live this great life, with these great friends and I got a dead girlfriend and a broken world.” She started to push away from the table but Rowena’s hand shot out and grasped her arm, pinning her in place.

“You can have that now, Charlie. You can let us be your friends. Let us care about you.” Charlie shook her head. 

“I’m not like her,” she said, sadly “I’ve seen too much.  I’ve done too much.”

“Oh my dear, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve done if I told them to you under a truth spell. And those boys care about me, for some reason. It’s a motley crew, dear. Not one of us has completely clean hands.” Charlie continued to shake her head and Rowena released her with a sigh. “Think on it, dear. That’s all I ask.”  Charlie folded her arms and looked away. 

“I went to find her, you know,” she said, biting the corner of her lip. “I thought maybe… a second chance, you know.” Rowena nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“She looked the same. A little older, but the same. She has a shop here too. A bakery. She still makes cupcakes. I’ll bet she still smells like peaches.”

“You didn’t speak to her?” 

“No. It wasn’t my her.  It was a her that doesn’t know me. Like I’m a Charlie that doesn’t know Sam and Dean. Or you.”

“I see.” Rowena’s voice was sad.

“I think I want to go,” Charlie said.

“Go where?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted. “I just need to be on my own for a while, I think.” Rowena nodded briskly. 

“If that’s what you want, dear.” She signaled for the check, signing it with a flourish when the waiter brought it over. 

The drive to Kansas was quiet and it wasn’t until they were almost all the way back that Charlie realized Rowena had never found her grimoire. 

  
  
  


Present Day

 

Charlie set the silver bracelet back into the tray with a wry smile. She felt like thanking it for the insight. Shaking her head, she headed out of the mall and back to car. What had she been thinking, shopping for Rowena at a mall? No, Rowena’s perfect gift had been in front of her the whole time. It would take some research, of course but Charlie’s hacking skills were really starting to come back to her after years of disuse and the technology in this world wasn’t so advanced that she couldn’t figure it out. 

It took her two full days to find what she was looking for. She almost gave up a couple of times and at one point, feeling discouraged, she ordered a pair of sparkly Jimmy Choo high heels back up gift and had them rush shipped to her PO Box. But finally, finally she found what she was looking for. She laughed to herself as she wrote in the card she had picked out. Who would’ve thought a shaman’s address would be as mundane as 245 Borna Rd, Gadsden, Arizona 85336? She slid the card into the envelope, licked the flap and sealed it. Sticking it carefully on top of the messily wrapped shoebox (hey she bought ‘em, she might as well give ‘em to her) she started to write Rowena on the front, but stopped before her pen touched the paper. A smile broke across her face as she bent her head down to scribble across the envelope: Fancy an adventure? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [7faerielights](http://7faerielights.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [faerie_lights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/%0Afaerie_lights) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128949) as well.


	7. Rowena - by CastielsCarma

Rowena MacLeod fiddled with the phone in her hand, the screen glowing as she read the name in the text message. A Secret Santa exchange barely a week before Christmas! Only Jack could think that was a good idea, Rowena mused. She– along with the Winchesters, the angel, Jack, every one of the new hunters– had been busy with Michael's horrendous monsters. What was the world coming to, when even monsters couldn't be proper monsters anymore? Silver not killing werewolves? Vampires not fearing Dead Man's blood? On top of that, she had dealt with some personal matters that needed her attendance, and the days flew by in a blur. Christmas shopping just needed to be wedged in whenever and for Rowena that meant just two days before the Christmas party.

Pulling the cloak closer to her body Rowena reassessed her thoughts; maybe celebrating this holiday and going gift-shopping was what they all needed. It would certainly pull Rowena out of her troubled mind, put it to better use. Her powers were still recharging after her encounter with Billie, but to what extent they would be fully back she didn't know. Frowning, Rowena banished those thoughts to the back of her mind. It led her to darker paths, to Fergus and how she had– Purposefully she reminded herself about what the Winchesters had told her. About her future, about Samuel Winchester and her connection to him, their fate irrevocably intertwined.

Rowena was not sure if the Resurrection Seal inside her body would work again if Death spoke the truth about her demise. She had searched in every spell book she could think of, perused all the lore in the Men of Letter's library and nothing she had found could be of use. The boys had faith though, that they would find a way like they always seemed to do. 

Faith. It was like magic but with no certainty of actually working. At least with magic, you had some chance of a spell to work, a word said just so to do what you intended. In Rowena's case, the spells usually worked flawlessly. She would pick magic over faith any day. It was just that sometimes life grabbed you by the shoulders and rendered you hopeless and you were reduced to a (very carefully hidden) mess clinging to faith because that was all you were left. You had to grab hold of faith unless you drowned in fear and then a big fool of a moose had to claim – no insist – that no matter the amount of magic you tried to gather you would never feel safe again.

Refusing to entertain her darker thoughts anymore, Rowena looked at the phone again and the name Jack had picked out for her. Maggie. Maggie? Finally attaching a face to the name, Rowena realized that Maggie was one of the girls from the Apocalypse World. When she had first received the message, she had waited a couple more minutes, maybe Jack had meant to send her another text. Maybe Jack had meant Dean? She was sure of what she could give Dean as a Christmas present. Maggie? She barely knew the woman. All she recalled was a wee young girl with dark hair, bubbly and full of excitement and... young. If she had had more time she could have prepared a proper gift but this called for improvisation. Now she just needed to find a gift in this so-called mega-mall. 

It would have been much easier a century ago, even fifty years back would have made a difference. A nice pen, a knitted blanket, proper chicken bones and the spit of a cat for that special spell. But Christmas shopping today was something entirely different. Rowena didn't do shopping like this. She usually didn't do shopping at all, if it wasn't for gorgeous dresses, necklaces, vials of magical blood, rabbit's feet or any other item a successful witch needed to have in her arsenal.

The mega-mall was crowded, people either scurrying to buy last minute gifts or walking maddeningly slow. The word  _ abi  _ was on her lips, just a wee word that would have made this experience much more delightful, but she had promised Dean and Sam that she would be good. Maybe it even was a promise to herself. She had indeed found herself hesitating at crossroads that before had never made her pause.

Good. She almost scoffed at the idea, but somehow those big buffoons in their flannels had wiggled themselves inside a heart she had thought long gone dead. And Jack, – someone who should have been hidden in the darkest corners of her mind – associated with Lucifer, was not who she had thought he was. Samuel had vouched for Jack and whether she liked it or not, she and Sam had a bond of sorts. The boy Jack was kind, good even. Maybe too good for his own good.

Rowena looked around at all the different stores and walked into a cosmetics shop. The vendors had numerous brands with different kinds of perfumes in varying bottles, be they shaped like a teardrop, flat, slender, round or accessorized with flowers, bees or keys. Some bottles even resembled nude women’s bodies of all things. The third time an employee had the audacity to spray a cloud of some godforsaken stench of a perfume on her, she was ready to snap her fingers and make the man explode into tiny pieces. This was one of the reasons she avoided malls and people in general.

“Isn't the fragrance lovely, ma'am? Notes of vanilla, ylang-ylang, and citrus. It pairs nicely with a beautiful lady as yourself.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow. “Charming but I'm shopping a gift for someone else. Don't really know her that well, but I do know that”, Rowena waved a finger at the man “that this perfume a wee bit too sophisticated and frankly overwhelming. That smell will certainly alert all kinds of creatures of the night. Don't you have anything more grounded and subtle? Say for a lass who never used perfume or the likes. Someone wh0's had to struggle a lot with said creatures but is like a ray of confused sunshine anyway, hopelessly youthful and... bubbly?”

The vendor closed his mouth, staring at Rowena like she was mad. He licked his lips and she could see his thoughts coming together slowly.

“Well? You have hundreds of bottles, surely you can find something fitting, right? If the folks of old could make do with oil, crushed herbs, and petals, surely some of your modern perfumes can fulfill my request?”

“I will certainly have a look, ma'am. One moment please.” He turned around and went to some shelves, picking up an assortment of different bottles and brands of perfume.

Rowena looked at the people milling about and tried to tune out the Christmas songs that were trying to worm their way inside her head. Cakes, holiday cheer, sappy movies, it all seemed so sentimental. Sure, she had lived for centuries, but she had been kind of busy, surviving, growing from a poor, scared child into a powerful witch.

Then it was the business of evading the Winchesters, double-crossing the Winchesters, then helping the Winchesters. And as if the Winchester love story was not enough, she was searching for magical spell books and trying to shape the poor excuses of wee witch-lings she had known into something more, a grand coven. It was not that she celebrated Christmas, even. Not that she knew much about Scottish Christmas to be honest. That had not been celebrated while she lived there, a forbidden thing, and while she had her son Fergus she had not been the best of mothers. Fergus had not brought her much joy. That was the story she had told herself but in the darkest of nights, she knew it for the lie it was.

She could see the vendor approaching her again, a few bottles in hand. “These are the ones I thought of when you described your, um… specifics.” He handed her a bottle that looked like a sad banana. Rowena took one whiff and scrunched her nose. Another one looked like the curvature of a woman and reminded her of something strong and pungent – like fish guts. Not even she could do that to poor Maggie.

“Thank you but no thank you. I much appreciate your help in this endeavor, but I don't think you have the right gift for me.” With that she turned – her red hair flowing behind her – and walked out of the store.

Impossibly enough there seemed to be even more people milling about now. Rowena sighed as she yanked her robe free from a child stepping on it. Where was Bernard when you needed him?

What would Maggie like? Maybe a silver-knife blessed with a special incantation? She seemed awful… excited and bubbly, Rowena thought as she was walking around, deciding on which store to enter. A self-defense class, some yarn to knit a pair of mittens with, a bland box of chocolates, or something edible that contained excessive amounts of cinnamon? Every one of those gift ideas was something she couldn't see herself buying. Was not the gift to reflect the giver too? Rowena was sure she had read that in some book somewhere.

Several eyes were on her as she casually walked among the different stores. Who could blame them? She was wearing her best robe, and the green dress underneath hugged her body nicely. Rowena had even decided to wear a Christmas brooch she had found in a little store in a small city on the Florida coast two decades ago – a miniature moose covered in red, white and green stones. Samuel would certainly approve. The brooch made her think of Crowley, her son. If only she could have been the person she was now back then, maybe things would have gone differently – he would still be alive – and Rowena hesitated to use the word happy, but maybe they could have been content at least.

Rowena pursed her lips. She would need to find something. The drive to the Bunker took a few hours, and this mall seemed to be sorely lacking in the gift-department section. Who wanted pepper grinders, a seven pack of Christmas- socks or body wash for presents anyway?

Wedged in between a toy store and a Bed, Bath & Beyond she caught something of interest and stopped. A tea store that displayed a multitude of teas in different glass jars; scrunchy oolong, red rooibos, fragrant masala chai, chamomile, and powdery green matcha tea. The fragrances of the different teas all seemed to come together into some sort of singular primordial tea-scent. Not only were there teas, but different kinds of coffee and hot chocolate and all imaginable accessories you could think of when you thought tea and coffee. Rowena glanced at a tea infuser that looked like something to be used in the bedroom rather than for dipping in hot water. She picked up one infuser that looked like a flower.

“Not for Maggie, these infusers. We are going with the basics. Sweet liquid and magical tool in one, the perfect present. Now, what would an upbeat, young hunter like for tea?” Putting the infuser back, she went further into the store.

Rowena walked among the aisles until she came across the leaf teas. Excellent, a satisfying drink and then Maggie could do some divination. There could be wisdom found in observing the leaves and which patterns they formed. All you needed was an intention. Picking up a glass jar of peppermint tea she opened the lid and inhaled the scent. Mm, very good; a fresh, bold scent.

Mint with all the properties it carried would be great for Maggie. Relaxing when she needed a pause and cool-down from hunting, it would help her improve the quality of her sleep – Gods knew Samuel always complained about the lack of sleep – and it would boost her immune system. As an added bonus it improved digestion, why would Maggie say no to that?

A chirpy voice brought her out of her musings. “Evening, ma'am! Do you need help with picking out some teas?”

Rowena put down the jar and looked at the girl in front of her, a scrawny thing with her brown hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. She looked like she was twelve; what did she know about teas?

“No thank you. I have been around long enough to pick up one or two things about tea.” She looked at the name tag, Summer. “Can you bag up this tea please, darling? It's a Christmas present for a wee lass just like yourself.”

“Yes, of course, ma'am. Please follow me.”

Rowena followed Summer to the register and watched as she wrapped the tea in some Christmas-themed paper. Turning to her left a tea mug caught her attention, where it was on display with other mugs, cups, and kettles. A red porcelain mug with big golden embossed letters on the side: Witching you a Merry Christmas.

“Would this be all for you today, ma'am?” Happy as ever this Summer girl, Rowena mused, and this time it was a fond thought.

“Actually Summer, I would need you to bag one more item for me.”

Bag in hand, Rowena elbowed her way through throngs of people until she found the exit. The day had given way to darkness and there was a chill in the air. Pulling the cloak around herself, Rowena walked back to the car, eager to get to the Bunker and her friends, eager to celebrate Christmas with the people she had come to care about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [angelneedshunter](http://angelneedshunter.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [CastielsCarma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128643) as well.


	8. Maggie - by bluestar86

To say Maggie was nervous was an understatement. She stared out at the brightly lit mall before her, with its multitudes of shops each holding their own promise of exciting Christmas gifts, and took a deep breath. She hadn’t stood in a mall like this since she was 12 years old and her mom had taken her to pick out a Christmas gift for her grandma… She only vaguely remembered the horrors of the following year as Michael’s apocalypse destroyed city after city, town after town, until there were no malls left, let alone family members to buy presents for. Burying down those memories, she set out for the first loud and brightly coloured shop she could find. 

Maggie was in a slightly more daunting situation compared to her fellow Secret Santa participants, in that her gift recipient already knew that she was his gifter, but she was still hugely excited about the idea. Jack had approached Maggie a few days earlier whilst she was reading a particularly gruesome book on Medieval healing practices and announced his plans to organise a Secret Santa. 

Maggie had blinked up at him with no idea of what a “Secret Santa” even was.

“It’s when a group of friends or family exchange Christmas gifts anonymously. With each person buying one gift to give to someone else so that everyone in the group both gives a gift and receives one,” Jack answered as if reading a description from Google. and Maggie found herself blushing as he smiled brightly at her. Now that it was explained, she had a vague recollection of this concept from Christmas movies in her childhood, not that she had any first hand experience. Jack seemed to notice her apprehension and moved closer.

“It’s okay. It’s only a simple gift, and it’s all for fun. Though you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to.”

“Who else is involved?” she asked.

“You, me, Sam, Dean, Castiel, a few of their friends who live in Sioux Falls, Mary and Bobby, and Charlie and Rowena.”

Maggie frowned. She knew Sam, Dean and Cas, and had spent more time with Mary and Bobby than the others, but the friends from Sioux Falls she had never met before.

“What if I get someone I don’t know?” she asked him.

Jack furrowed his brow in thought, and then smiled.

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” he said, then turned around to pick up an old baseball cap filled with small pieces of paper. “I’ll pick out someone for you, and if it’s someone you don’t know, I’ll pick someone else. I have to make sure you don’t get yourself anyway!”

Maggie eyed the baseball cap curiously and nodded. 

Jack pulled out the first piece of paper and unfolded it, chuckling as he realised who she had been assigned. 

“Hopefully, this will be fine for you!” he grinned as he handed her the paper. Maggie took it and glanced down at the name ‘Jack’ in big bold letters.

“But… I thought it was anonymous! You aren’t supposed to know who gets you!” 

Jack shrugged. “I’ve been checking all the names on the paper before I hand them out. This is all part of a bigger plan I have in mind, so it’s not a problem for me… Unless it’s a problem for you?” He stared at her expectantly.

Maggie shook her head.

“Not a problem at all!” she smiled, “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me any ideas what to get you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’ve never been given a Christmas present before. You’d be my first. But I’m sure I will love whatever you get me.”

He spoke so sincerely that Maggie couldn’t help but be taken in by his infectious smile. She agreed and waved shyly at him as Jack took his baseball cap and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. She sat back down to continue reading her book, and pondering over what kind of present she could get Jack that would do him justice after everything he had done for her. After all, she owed him her life.

Maggie now stood outside the entrance of a busy shop full of pop culture memorabilia and unusual clothing. It was playing extremely loud music and was awfully crowded. She had a vague idea of what she wanted to get Jack, and thought perhaps she could find it in here, but the loud noise and crowds of people all around were making her feel jumpy. Nine years of surviving in an apocalypse world made her extremely nervous around people, and Maggie’s heart sank at her inability to step into the shop without suffering flashbacks of the horrors of her past. Instead, she turned around and quickly made her way to a bench in an open area of the mall. The crowds weren’t as thick here, and she was able to readjust and pull herself back together. 

It was a strange thought. She was fine with hunting. It seemed natural to her after years of scavenging in abandoned towns and fighting for her life. Hunters spent most of their time in places that crowds of people avoided. In Maggie’s experience, it took very little for a crowd to become a mob, and mobs could be far more dangerous than your run of the mill vampire in the wrong circumstances.

Even though she knew she was being ridiculous, and chastised herself for panicking over a crowded Hot Topic, she just couldn’t bring herself to go in there. Instead, she sat on her bench watching the people hurry past, thinking about how strange her life was, and that if it wasn’t for Jack, she wouldn’t be here at all. 

She didn’t remember much about her death, and she was thankful for that, though Lucifer’s evil red eyes still occasionally haunted her dreams. She would never have believed that Jack was his son, especially since the boy looked so much like Castiel and shared characteristics with Sam and Dean. They had an odd little family, and whilst she sometimes felt like an outsider intruding on their time together, she was extremely grateful to all of them for welcoming her into their lives with open arms. She loved all of her fellow “apocalypse world” refugees, they were her family now. But Jack, and Sam and Dean and Cas, they saved her several times over, and she would never be able to repay them for that. They were her heroes through and through.

As if by some strange act of fate, as soon as the thought passed her mind, a gleam of red and blue caught her eye, and she glanced over to a corner of the mall that was quieter than the rest. She stood up and shuffled through the crowds of disgruntled and impatient Christmas shoppers until she found herself standing face to face with a life size figure of Superman. Well, not exactly face to face since the model loomed over her. It was quite impressive. Maggie’s face lit up when she looked passed the Superman model into the shop it called home to find it both quiet and relatively empty. Just a young woman in a plaid shirt behind the counter who for some weird reason really reminded Maggie of Sam Winchester. Upon Maggie’s nervous approach she looked up and beamed at her.

“Hi! Welcome to Smash! Pow! Comics! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Uh…” 

Maggie glanced around the store at all the brightly coloured action figures and posters for various movies on the walls. 

“I need to get a gift for someone - a friend.”

The girl nodded.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Do they like comic books?” She walked around to Maggie’s side of the counter and gestured towards the rows upon rows of comic books in the stands. Maggie’s wide-eyed stare must have given her away as the girl smiled kindly at her and came closer.

“I’m Sam. Maybe together we can work out what sort of things he likes?” 

Blinking at the familiarity of the name, Maggie smiled back.

“Thank you. I don’t really know what he is into. I just thought… um…” She paused and took a breath. “He saved me life.” 

Sam’s eyes widened comically. 

“Wow. So important guy then.” 

Maggie nodded, not wanting to give out any more information that would trigger a memory for her. 

“Well, we can certainly find something that suggests ‘hero’ if that’s what you’re going for.” Sam said as she held out her arms and motioned at her surroundings. “You’re in the right place!” 

Maggie sighed in relief. 

“I hope so. I wanted to find something that would show him how much I thought of him. That he is a hero to me… like, a superhero? Oh god, that's so sappy. Do you think he’ll think that’s sappy?” 

Sam chuckled and shook her head. 

“If he’s a nice guy - and since he saved your life he must be - then he won’t think it’s sappy at all. It’s actually really sweet.”

Sam started pacing around the store, looking among the various knick-knacks, and figures and odd pop culture objects for sale as Maggie followed.

“I actually had a bit of a strange experience myself not that long ago…” she explained as she continued to search the store. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you all the details, but this guy and his brother, they basically saved my colleague’s life - and at one point we had to blow the door off the shop. It was awesome!” She paused and turned a critical eye on Maggie. “Not that we did anything illegal like build a bomb or anything…”

Maggie raised her eyebrows, and Sam shifted nervously.

“Forget I said that.”

Maggie glanced over at the door, expecting to see some scorch marks or some other indication of an explosion. There was none. Picking up on what she was thinking, Sam chuckled. 

“Oh, it didn’t happen here. We are brand new! Only open a few days! After all the craziness that happened back in Ohio we needed a change, and my uncle owned this shop back when it was an army surplus. So we sold the shop in Ohio and moved down here. A fresh start. Sometimes you need that after something, um, traumatic happens…” She paused in her explanation and stared at Maggie, who at this point was standing in the middle of the store just listening with a confused expression. Something about Sam’s story seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t remember why. Sam didn’t seem to notice her awkwardness though, and instead just shrugged. 

“Sorry. As you can probably tell, we don’t get many customers at the moment. Comic books are a bit of a niche market, and I have been going stir crazy being here on my own every day!” 

Maggie smiled awkwardly at her. 

“Well, it’s a nice place. I’ll definitely recommend it to Jack and my other friends.”

“Is Jack the name of the friend that saved you?”

Maggie nodded. 

“Then I’ve got just the thing”

She rummaged through a selection of comic books and pulled one out. The title read ‘Starman’, and on the cover was a guy holding a staff and wearing goggles. At Maggie’s furrowed brow, Sam laughed and opened it to the first page, pointing at the big colourful picture of the superhero among the speech bubbles and text boxes.

“See, his name is Jack Knight. He is a Superhero who doesn’t wear a cape. He’s relatively normal, but he has this cool staff that can make him fly and manipulate energy. The original Starman was his adoptive father and Jack took up his father’s role as protector of the Opal City. Pretty cool right?”

“‘Sins of the Father’” She read. Maggie wondered how Jack would react to finding a comic book character with his name and also apparently some major daddy issues if the title of this comic was anything to go by.

“So is his father a bad guy in this or…?”

“Oh no, not at all! His father is kind of like Superman I guess? He was a hero, with his own huge comic book line, and he adopted Jack, as well as his brother. It’s a found family of superheroes, it’s really cool I promise!”

“That actually sounds pretty much perfect.” Maggie grinned, thinking about Jack’s situation. “Thank you! I’ll take it.”

Sam’s face lit up and she took the comic book back around the counter to ring it up. Once Maggie had paid and said her goodbyes, she found a holiday store to buy gift wrap and a card, and then settled down in a coffee shop with a mug of hot chocolate. 

Maggie pulled out the gift card and a pen and chewed on the end whilst she thought of her message to Jack. She knew he had been struggling lately following the loss of his powers, and felt like he wasn’t able to help his fathers or the other hunters without them. Maggie knew what it was like to feel useless, she was hardly a skilled hunter, but both her and Jack were learning and she owed him so much that the thought of him feeling the same broke her heart. She had wanted her gift to be meaningful, and thanks to her new friend Sam she had found the perfect present, she just needed to write the perfect message to go with it.

After a few more moments of contemplation she started writing, growing more confident with her message as she went. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she probably had a bit of a crush on Jack. He was handsome, and refreshingly positive most of the time - a trait that was practically extinct in her world. Most of all, he was kind. She had no idea if he was even interested in anything more than friendship, and she had no expectations from him other than her own desire to make him happy. Regardless of anything else though, Maggie owed him her life, as Lucifer never would have brought her back had Jack not insisted, and for that she would always hold a place in her heart for him.

Once finished, she took another sip of her hot chocolate and leaned back in her chair to read the note again:

Dear Jack,

I’m not very good at this sort of thing, having spent half my life fighting and struggling to survive, but I wanted to tell you how very grateful I am for everything that you and your dads have done for me. Since there is no secret to who your ‘secret Santa’ is, I figured I’d be honest and explain my gift a bit, if that’s alright with you. 

After everything you’ve been through I wanted to gift you with something fun, and also something to represent what you mean to me. The comic book I chose is about a superhero called Jack, who saves the world with his family. You saved my life, and because of you I have a chance to start a new life away from constant fear. I know you struggle since the loss of your power, but powerful or not, you will always be a ‘superhero’ to me. 

Merry Christmas Jack. I hope you have everything you could wish for.

Love Maggie.

X

After re-reading her note a few more times, she decided it was complete. Quickly wrapping up the comic with the note neatly tucked inside, Maggie finished her hot chocolate and went to find the rest of her group to make her way back to the bunker.

For the first time in 9 years she was looking forward to Christmas. It was going to be truly magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [bluestar86](http://bluestar86.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [BlueStar86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueStar86) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	9. Claire - by livinginthequestion

By the time Claire made it back to the highway and her car, it was nearly pitch dark, even though she knew for a fact it wasn’t much past four in the afternoon. She pushed the trunk lid up and grunted tiredly as she heaved her bag into it, the weapons inside clanking as they landed. This stupid hunt, which should have been a quick in-and-out, ended up wearing her out for almost three days. She’d never say so out loud, but it was hard not to concede Jody and Dean’s constant point that it would be easier to have backup. 

Speaking of which, it was probably past time to check in. Sure enough, as soon as Claire turned her phone back on, it lit up with notifications: texts, about a dozen total from Jody, Dean and one hey, you okay? from Sam, and two voicemails. Judging from the texts, it would be better to ignore the messages, but only if she actually called right now. She hit Jody’s speed dial. 

“Claire?? Is that you? Oh my god, finally! Where have you been?” Claire winced and leaned her head slightly away. 

“Yep, it’s me, I’m fine. Sorry, the hunt was-” 

“Claire, you’ve got to be more responsible. You should have at least checked in yesterday morning!” 

“I know, but I always have my phone off when I’m tracking, you know that. And things went a little south-” 

“Went south?? And of course you’re out there alone, nobody’s even sure where exactly, how are we supposed to back you up if you need it?? Claire, honestly-” 

“Jody, for god’s sake, I’m fine! But thanks so much for the vote of confidence. Nice to know you don’t even trust me to take care of myself. I’m not a kid, y’know!” 

“You don’t see the boys disappearing without checking in, or any of the other hunters either. You act like a kid, you get treated like one, my girl.” 

Claire felt a wave of anger rising in her chest, so strong she almost dropped the phone. “Like hell!” she shouted. “You aren’t my mother, y’know!” 

The words hung in the air like a gunshot, ringing in Claire’s ears. She cringed inwardly, wishing in the silence she could take them back. 

When Jody spoke, her voice was so quiet Claire had to strain to hear. “You’re right. I’m not. Glad you’re okay. See you when you get here.” Click.  

Claire stood there, phone in clenched hand, grinding her teeth. Dammit. She didn’t mean it, or at least didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it was so frustrating always feeling somebody breathing down her neck! Kaia’s face floated into her mind, with the accompanying stab of heartache; for a moment she had a flash of memory of her mother, carrying a platter of hamburgers to the table and smiling at her and Daddy. 

Claire slammed the trunk lid down and threw the driver’s door open, flopping angrily into her seat. Just as she slid the key into the ignition her phone rang again; Dean this time. She made a face and pushed the talk button. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey, Jody said you’d checked in finally. How’d it go?” 

“Fine, a little more involved than I thought it would be, but it’s done. You called Jody?”  

“Sure I did. She sounded a little upset. Any idea what that’s about?” 

Claire sighed. “We got into it a little, mostly her yelling at me for not checking in, like I’m a newbie or something, like I’ve never been hunting before. She treats me like her kid or something!” 

“And you’re not her kid.” 

“Damn right I’m not!” 

“And you said that to her, right?” 

Long pause. “Well… Yeah, I did. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve, but she’s just… she’s so bossy!” 

“I know, kid. You’re doing a great job, but it’s dangerous. And it makes all of us nervous to know you’re out there by yourself, which, by the way, is why I’m always bugging you to check in, tell me your plan, all that crap you pitch me shit about.” 

Claire made an impatient noise, and Dean chuckled, then sighed. 

“I dunno, Claire, sometimes I think it’s a little worse for Jody. We all worry about you, and we’re not very good at being dads or whatever. But for Jody, it’s more like… She knows what it’s like to be a mom and see her kid in danger and not be able to stop it, y’know? She had to watch her husband die, and her son - turn into something else.”  

After a moment Dean spoke again, in a quieter voice. “Anyway, it was terrible, she’s had a rough time but she managed to come back from it, and then you girls came along, and she… Partly she wanted to help you because she knows how tough it is to cope with all this stuff. And partly she wants to look after all of you, especially you, Claire. She knows your story.” 

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah, so?” 

“So, she’s trying to give you a safe place to, y’know, start over, figure out your life. I don’t think she’s trying to replace your mom or whatever. She’s just trying to be there for you.” 

Claire drew in a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut. “Even if I didn’t ask for it?” she husked out. 

Dean snorted. “You’re too much like me, kid. You’d rather choke to death than ask for help. Jody’s got both our numbers. Might as well face it, she’s not gonna back away from either one of us.” 

“Resistance is futile, huh?” 

“Yep, ‘fraid so. So what’s your next move?” 

Claire wiped her face with her sleeve, sniffling as quietly as possible. “Well, I guess I gotta figure out what to get for her, after being a jerk. Ugh, me and my big mouth.”  

“Yeah, awkward. Try not to worry too much. Your heart’s in the right place, you’ll figure something out. Hey listen, kid, I gotta go. Just think about what I said, okay?”  

“Okay. See you later. Drive carefully, old man.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You too. See ya.” 

Claire hung up before she could start blubbering again. Her attention was caught by a sign: The Empire Mall. She swung into the parking lot, hoping for inspiration. 

 

Claire wandered through the little mall, peering into every door and waiting for some brilliant idea to jump out at her. She was nearly at the end of the line when she saw a custom T-shirt shop. The sales guy was standing just inside the door fussing with a display, and glanced over with a smile. 

“Something in a T-shirt, ma’am?” It was a lame opening, but something about his face reassured her. She slanted a grin. 

“Yeah, maybe. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for.” She walked into the shop and looked around. 

“Hmmm. Well, who are you shopping for, first of all?” 

“My, uh, mom, sort of.” 

“Sort of?” He chuckled. “You’re not sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. She’s kind of an adoptive mom.” 

“I see.”  He watched her for a moment, and she had time to notice his name tag: Bob. 

“So what do you think, Bob?” 

He moved a few steps into the shop and gestured for her to follow. “I think if she’s the T-shirt type, we can find the perfect thing.” 

Claire trailed after him, sidling past the crowded racks until she bumped into one she couldn’t avoid, almost pulling a sweatshirt off. It was a dark cobalt blue with a zip front and a deep hood. Something about the color made her think of Jody. 

“You think she might like a sweatshirt?” Bob had come back to her, looking over the sweatshirt in her hands. 

“Actually, I think she might. This kinda reminds me of her. When she comes home from work she likes to be comfy, y’know?” 

Bob nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. This might be perfect. So do you want to have a design or something imprinted on it?” 

Claire tipped her head back to scan the display board on the wall. “Yeah, I guess. I dunno what to put on it, though.” She squinted, trying to take them all in. 

“I’ve got some mom-centric stuff over at the end. Right down this way.” 

Claire skipped over the hearts-and-flowers ones and the puppy-and-kitten ones, wondering if there was a T-shirt graphic appropriate for a woman who killed monsters for a living - and her eyes lighted on one near the end. It was a curving line of cursive letters, in a kind of medium yellow: 

 

 

She stood there staring at it for so long that finally Bob spoke up. 

“See one you like?” 

“Yeah,” Claire had to clear her throat. “Yeah, that one.” She blinked furiously, refusing to look at Bob. 

He smiled. “Perfect. I’ll have that done in about five minutes.” 

 

Twenty minutes later Claire was climbing back into her car, a brightly wrapped box tucked under her arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [livinginthequestion](http://livinginthequestion.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [livinginthequestion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthequestion) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	10. Jody - by Endellion

Jody had been at work when she received Jack’s phone call about doing a Secret Santa at the bunker this year. It had sounded like a great way to bring everyone a bit of cheer this Christmas, considering that there would likely still be hunts. After all, monsters didn’t take the holidays off. “Not even the human ones.” She muttered to herself as she finished her paperwork. She filed it in her cabinet and then submitted the online copies. One of her deputies had retired that week so she was going to have to get a replacement. At the moment she was too swamped to go through the process of hiring someone new. She pushed the nagging thought to the back of her mind.

Jack had told her that he had randomly picked names for everyone and her assignment was Donna. Jody was pretty pleased about this as it wasn’t someone she didn’t know at all. However, it was important to her that she get the right gift. Claire and Alex tended to make it easy on her by straight out telling her what they wanted. As soon as her shift ended, she texted the girls to let them know she would be late. Alex sent back a ‘thumbs up’ emoji. Claire dittoed it. It brought a small smile to her lips, thinking about how they had come along. She was so proud of them.

She stopped in the bathroom, washing her hands and running one over her cap of hair. She was going more grey by the day. She blamed the girls more than monsters. Monsters? No problem. Teenagers? Send backup. She chuckled and headed out to her vehicle. She figured the mall was the best place to start looking for a gift.

Once at the mall, she parked and decided to walk through at random and see if anything jumped out at her.

She passed by jewellers like Tiffany’s and accessory stores like Claire’s. Jewellery seemed rather serious and expensive as well as lacking any practicality. Claire’s would likely have cute things that Donna would love, but she wanted something different than mass produced hairbands and character necklaces. They did have scarves and bags though… The thought almost had her going back but she shook her head to keep looking.

All the shoe shops like Payless were bypassed as well. Donna was more than capable of buying her own shoes and Jody didn’t even know what size she wore. She wandered through an art gallery but dismissed it as an actual present idea. Thomas Kinkade didn’t exactly scream ‘Donna’ at her. Donna was more interactive. Gag gifts were out, it wasn’t her style. As she walked into a Bath and Body store, she thought about how she had first met Donna.

At first Jody had been less than pleased at getting paired with Donna at the sheriff convention. The cheerful blonde had seemed like an airhead, cute but dim, and not at all a competent officer of the law. She wasn’t going to deny that she had judged a book by its cover. That impression had changed over the years. Donna was a hell of a vampire hunter, for one thing. She had taken to it with a determination and learned skill that was admirable and definitely a bit surprising. It was more than that though, it was how loyal Donna was. It was how she could look on the bright side despite everything that had happened.

Jody would be the first to admit that she could be a bit pessimistic. When her son had died, she had fallen into a grief that was hard to climb out of, and regaining him only to lose him again and her husband made her wonder what the point was to all the fighting. She had become a sheriff to protect people, but if there were horrible monsters out there that people didn’t even know about, how could you fight that? But she didn’t really know any other way than to keep fighting; it was what she had always done.

Looking over soaps and bubble baths, lotions and salts, Jody shook her head. Those weren’t right for Donna at all. The next shop had candles and wall décor. Suncatchers in the shape of birds, wrought iron wall hangings, wind-chimes, and delicate candle holders adorned shelves and wall space. It didn’t say what she wanted it to say.

Checking her watch, she decided to call time and go home. She could keep looking tomorrow, in between paperwork and any call-outs she had to attend.

Before she went to sleep she considered the whole replacement deputy thing. She huffed out a breath and rolled over in bed. She didn’t want a newbie to train from the beginning, they had several of those. They needed experienced cops. Experienced cops might notice when things were done a little… ‘differently’ due to her hunts though, and it would be a hassle to hide it from fresh eyes that hadn’t become immune to the idiosyncrasies. It would be nice if she could just advertise for a hunter of the supernatural to join her team. Then she’d have someone who understood and could back her up on cases like those.

The next day, she spent her lunch break on the internet, searching websites like Amazon and Etsy and Ebay for ideas. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t see things Donna would like. Donna was likely to be amazed by even a simple gift and would no doubt laugh at any joke gifts. Jody remembered needing Donna’s help and Donna throwing open a car trunk that was chock full of weapons. Donna was family. Donna had a place with them and Jody wasn’t even sure that Donna knew it. A warm scarf or a romance novel wasn’t going to cut it.

Jody did paperwork and pushed the thought of Donna’s present to the background to percolate. It was when she was getting home that she realised what she could do. But first she had to speak to Claire and Alex to ensure they were okay with it. She debated back and forth, not wanting to ruin the Secret Santa but it was their house too. In the end she decided to subtly mention it during dinner.

At home she prepared dinner, chicken breast with mashed potatoes and green beans. Alex and Claire came down, thanking her as they got plates. “Did you two have a good day?” she asked. She listened to the resulting comments. As they neared the end of the meal, she casually brought up Christmas in the bunker and Donna.

“It would be a shame if Donna had to rush straight home after. I’ve always thought she would be welcome here for however long she wanted to stay.” She picked up the plates to put in the sink for Alex’s turn doing the dishes.

“Yeah, of course.” Alex shrugged it off. Claire eyed Jody more intently and Jody could almost see the wheels turning in her head. In the end she echoed Alex.

“I like Donna. She’s too cheerful in the morning though.” Claire added. Jody chuckled.

“Agreed.” Confident that the girls were comfortable with the idea- and wouldn’t actually be too surprised by her gift to Donna, she went to do some reading. She would take care of the gift on Saturday.

That Saturday she went back to the mall. She looked through the pyjamas for a pair that was warm and fluffy. Pockets were a must. As soon as she found the right ones, she bought them. The pants were pink and black checked with a pocket. The long-sleeved top was grey with a big pink and black checked heart, in the center. She knew they were the right ones as soon as she felt how plush and soft they were. They also weren’t Christmas or winter themed, something that Jody wanted to avoid. After purchasing them she went to Ace Hardware.

Jody thought of herself as an independent woman. A strong sheriff and (some days) a good mother. It had been hard to view herself as a good mother at all after her son’s death (and then re-death). Slowly, that confidence had built back up with the girls. But if there was one thing she had learned from Sam and Dean it was that hunting was better done with help. It was all well and good to play the lone ranger on a case but if you got in trouble and had no backup you were done for.

Donna had been a partner that Jody could rely on. Although the blonde was far too cheerful in the morning (and most other times) but underneath the blinding smile and quirky comments was a foundation of stone. One that even a take charge woman like Jody could rest upon to recover.

Luckily they were able to cut the key on the spot. She went home and turned on her home computer. Bringing up a new Word document, she put in the date and addressed the letter, typing out several lines in a formal manner. “Dear Ms. Hanscum”, it began, “I am pleased to offer you the position of Deputy Sheriff to Sioux Falls Sheriff Department...” Pleased with how it sounded, Jody printed it out and carefully folded it before placing it in an envelope.

Jody went down and pulled last year’s Christmas wrapping paper out of the closet. In her room, she carefully folded the pyjamas and placed the key in the pocket. Then she put the sealed envelope with the job offer on top and carefully pulled the wrapping paper up and over. She taped it and got a blank Christmas card to type Donna’s name and the words ‘Merry Christmas’ on it, then taped a corner to the top of the gift. It was ready.

Having her holiday booked, she and the girls made their way to the bunker and Jody greeted everyone with a big smile. The present was in a bag and Jack showed her where the tree was to put it underneath when no one was looking. He and the others gathered near the kitchen and she slipped the present out under the tree, then went to join them. She couldn’t wait for Donna to see the gift and to know if her hiring conundrum could be solved. If not, at least Donna would know she always had a home with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [endellionaeternus](http://endellionaeternus.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [Endellion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endellion) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190845) as well.


	11. Donna - by BaredWolf

Donna had to admit that young Jack Kline’s call had come as something of a surprise—not that she minded. Ever since things, well, went south with Doug, she had been sort of dreading the holidays. Of course, planning to spend it with Jody and the girls had given her something positive to look forward to, but heading down to Lebanon for a party didn’t sound like such a bad time either. To make things even easier, Jack told her that her Secret Santa giftee would be Alex.

It was kind of adorable, too, the kid’s earnest desire to experience Christmas. And darn tootin’ she was gonna help him out. Everybody deserved to have happy memories of family gatherings for the holidays. Even if that family was a rag-tag bunch of monster hunters. Probably especially in that particular case.

Donna wouldn’t rather spend the holiday with anybody else, anyways.

And as Jody had put it, Doug was a pansy for bailing on her. Well, Jody hadn’t used the word pansy. But it was close enough.

Still, the holidays were always the hardest after you lost someone—whether they were gone, or just gone from your life. Donna didn’t really feel up to heading to her extended relatives’ Christmas gathering and answering all of their questions—and dealing with all of their unsolicited advice—about her current lack of a love life. She didn’t want to lie to her family about the reasons why, either. Spending Christmas with Jody and the girls, and now the rest of their big hunter family, should be just the ticket to keep her Christmas cheer rolling. Soon enough, the holidays would be past.

Donna had been delighted when Jack invited her to take part in the Secret Santa gift exchange. His joy at her response had made her smile even wider. It was both hard to remember and hard to forget how young he was sometimes. Not even two, and already throwing his first Christmas party. Sam, Dean, and Castiel must be proud of how far he had come. Especially after everything that he had been through.

It was easier, sometimes, to be around other people who had gone through hard stuff too.

Still, she had already purchased a gift for Alex before the Secret Santa. She decided it might be cheating to just give Alex the gift she had gotten her for Christmas anyway. It wasn’t really in the spirit of Secret Santa. And Christmas was all about the spirit of things.  

Besides, shopping for Alex and preparing to celebrate in Lebanon gave her something to focus on. Something productive. She had spent the weeks between Thanksgiving and now clearing out every vampire nest she could find, filled with a growing desperation to keep her mind occupied as the holidays approached.

So, as she drove the D-Train down the freeway, she thought about what she might pick out. She had already gotten Alex the heavy-duty hand cream that her aunt always loved—nurses and farmers both got terribly chapped hands in the winter. It smelled like honey. Donna had almost gotten some more for herself, but it hadn’t seemed right. Christmas wasn’t about buying yourself gifts, after all.

The temptation to buy the girl a few heavy-weight silver rings crossed her mind again. But Christmas wasn’t a time to give Alex more weapons, it was time to give her something nice. Alex, like Jack, could use a good Christmas spoiling.

She hadn’t found anything in Stillwater, and at long last had decided she would just make a stop along the way to Lebanon. Maybe being out of her familiar environment would help spark some ideas. She thought, letting her mind wander over various things that Alex might want or need.

She should have known better, or at least that’s what she would tell herself. Letting her mind wander was too dangerous these days because as her mind drifted she found herself wondering what Doug might be doing on this cold night. It was getting icy cold these days. He probably just heated up one of those darn TV dinners he liked so much and…

It didn’t matter. She told herself to snap out of it and focus. What should she get Alex?

Donna sighed. Her mind was swimming, dark shapes swirling amid the lights of the freeway and full of the ghosts of Christmas past. It was time to employ her Dad’s favorite Christmas shopping strategy: go to the mall and walk around until you see something that looks like the person would like it. The lights and the music and the other shoppers would help too. Who could be sorry for themselves in the middle of so much Christmas spirit?

And if that didn’t work, she had pegged a possible vamp about only about fifty miles out of her way. She could always make another pit stop to take care of that.

Her phone rang.

“Hey ya, Jodes. How’s the driving?”

“Well, if I could get all of our restroom breaks on the same schedule, I think we’d get there faster. But the weather is holding out. How about you? What time do you think you’ll get in?”

“Oh, you know. Smooth sailing. I’ll be getting in late, though. Just passed Omaha, and I gotta make a pit stop for a little something.”

“Alright, well, you call me if you get tired. And I’ll text you if we get in before you do.”

“Alrighty then. See you soon.”

“Bye, Donna.” They hung up. Donna felt a fresh wash of excitement: she couldn’t wait to have her whole hunter family together again. Maybe just being with the people who accepted you was the best way to spend Christmas.

The bright lights of Lincoln, Nebraska appeared over the horizon, cresting the long straight stretch of I-80 with the promise of a rest. Donna never did like how early it got dark in the winter, but she should have plenty of time to stop in at the mall and then drive the couple of remaining hours to the bunker tonight. She had been driving since lunchtime and the stop at the mall should be just what she needed.

The mall parking lot was busy, and Donna had to circle around for a few minutes to find a parking spot for the D-Train. When she stepped down from the big truck, she smiled and drew in a deep breath. The temperature had to be in the low forties. It was practically balmy compared to Stillwater. Still, she left her gloves on as she started the long trek from the back of the parking lot into the mall.

Christmas lights twinkled merrily at her, and the standard holiday fare blasted cheerfully from overhead speakers as she entered the Gateway Mall. Shoppers hurried around, their arms full of bags, as they scrambled to finish up last minute purchases. A mother tried to negotiate with an over-tired toddler, but it looked to Donna like she was losing that battle. A woman smiled beatifically at a man in an over-sized jewelry store advertisement.

“Gag,” Donna muttered. But quietly, she wondered what Doug might have picked out for her this year.

She stepped around the advertisement to glance at the mall’s directory, but none of the store names really jumped out at her. Her stomach rumbled. Okay, one store name had jumped out at her.

Ten minutes later, armed with a warm and deliciously soft pretzel, Donna wandered the corridors of the mall. The music was ferociously upbeat, and it was making her feel a little bit better. Eating was probably helping too: she tended to get a little hangry.

Soon, the pretzel was gone, however, and she was still at a loss. She stood outside of a jewelry store, glancing through their offerings.

“Look, look what I found! Isn’t this perfect for him?”

A woman showed a scarf—thick and warm-looking—to her companion excitedly.

“Oh, that’s amazing. It’s so soft! Dad will love it!”

The scarf was beautiful, with bright patterns in red and white. It had a big N on each of the ends.

“Excuse me,” she said to the women, who both turned to her with identical surprised but patiently expectant looks on their faces. These two must be sisters, she decided. “Can you tell me where you found that? It’s beautiful.”

“Oh sure!” the first woman chirped. “Just over there, there’s one of those little stands, a whatcha call it—“

“A kiosk,” her sister supplied.

“Right, a kiosk! And this lady, she hand knits all of these things and sets up here at Christmas to sell them! She has so many wonderful things!”

“Just over there? Thanks!” Donna headed off in the direction that the women had indicated.

The small kiosk had only a smattering of items remaining, but each one was clearly skillfully made. Donna brushed her fingers over a scarf. It was very soft and looked warm enough to stand up to a Sioux Falls winter.

“Hi! Can I help you?” A short brunette appeared from around the other side of the kiosk.

“Oh, hey! Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there. I was just admiring these things.” Donna indicated the scarf self-consciously. As she looked around, she felt disappointment creeping up on her: the things were beautiful, but not a one of them said “Alex” to her.

“I knit them myself,” the woman smiled. “I don’t have a lot of selection left, but there are some scarves here, hats right here, and, hmm, let me see.” She disappeared around the side of the kiosk again. She reappeared a moment later.

“I still have these. They were a custom order, but the lady just called and canceled on me. So, I suppose I should set them out.” Donna’s heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw what the woman was holding.

It was a pair of thick, warm-looking mittens knit in grey and blue yarn. Down the middle of the back of the hand was a rod with two snakes wound around it, and a pair of wings crested the rod. Donna knew that symbol: it was the symbol for medicine. It had a funny name that she couldn’t quite remember, but she knew that Alex would know it.

“I don’t suppose these were supposed to be a gift for a nurse?” she asked.

“They were!” The woman laughed. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for a gift for a nurse?”

Donna grinned. “I think it’s both of our lucky night.”

Donna smiled at the small gift bag sitting on the seat of her truck. She couldn’t help feeling like the stars had aligned to bring her the perfect gift for Alex. More than that, though, was the warm glow she felt growing behind her ribs. It was time to go spend Christmas with her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [baredwolf](http://baredwolf.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [BaredWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139356) as well.


	12. Alex - by MittenWraith

Jody had been the one who broke the news to Alex that they’d be taking a little road trip for Christmas. They’d all been invited to spend the holiday at the bunker. Once she’d been assured that this would be a monster-free event, Alex had happily agreed.

“Oh, and I gave Jack your number,” Jody said as Alex had been heading out the door to go to work. “He’s gonna text you the name of your Secret Santa recipient.”

“Secret Santa?” Alex asked, her hand on the doorknob as she turned back to Jody. “You mean I have to buy someone a present?”

“And keep it secret, yeah, that’s how it works. Jack thought it would be a fun family bonding activity, so we’re all gonna join in with jolly good cheer.”

Alex bit her lip and nodded, and then left for the hospital without another word. She’d been living with Jody for a long time now, and buying presents for Jody and even Claire had become something almost routine. Birthdays and Christmas meant buying something small and sweet to mark the occasion, but they’d never been too terribly caught up in the commercialism of the holiday. Before she moved to Jody’s, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d given or received a gift, and suddenly the idea of picking something out for someone she potentially didn’t know very well and having them open it in front of practically everyone in the world she cared about seemed like a daunting challenge. This could so easily lead to disappointment.

Her phone dinged several times while she drove to the hospital, which gave her a precious few minutes to put off seeing who Jack had picked as her recipient. She made it through the parking garage, the hospital lobby, the elevator, and all the way to the nurse’s station before finally working up the courage to check her messages.

>>Hello Alex, this is Jack.

>>You’ll be Secret Santa for Patience.

>>Happy holidays!

One final text displayed an assortment of holiday themed emojis-- pine trees and presents, and weirdly, a pie.

She sat there staring at the screen until it went dark, and then heaved a huge sigh of relief. She knew Patience, at least. They’d become close over the last few months, and Alex liked to think that she could confidently pick something out that Patience would like. So why couldn’t she think of anything to get for her friend?

And worse, would she even be able to keep her gift a secret from Patience? How do you keep secrets from psychics? She’d have to talk with Jody to make sure they didn’t accidentally spoil her surprise. It was just one more thing to be nervous about.

She must’ve looked upset, sitting there at the desk clutching her phone, because one of the older nurses wheeled another chair over and sat down beside her with a frown.

“Is everything okay, sweetie? You look like you got some bad news,” Erin said, pointing down at Alex’s whitening knuckles and the phone clamped between them.

She took a deep breath and unclenched her hands, smiling up at her friend. “No, it’s fine. I was invited to a Christmas party and I have to get a secret Santa gift for someone, and I guess I’m just nervous that she’s gonna open it in a room full of people I don’t know very well. I don’t wanna look bad when everyone else gets a better gift, you know?”

Erin smiled at her with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know what I learned after years of going to those sorts of things? Nobody ever thinks badly of a gift you made with love, with your own two hands. Why don’t you knit your friend a sweater, or draw her a picture?”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, I’m no artist, and I have no idea how to knit. Guess I’ll be hitting the mall after work.”

Erin shook her head and reached a hand out to pat Alex’s wrist. “No worries, you sit right there. I’m gonna teach you a life skill.”

With that she got up and raced back to the locker room and returned a moment later with a big tote bag full of knitting supplies. She plopped the bag down on the seat she’d vacated and began digging through it until she pulled out a huge ball of sparkly blue yarn and a pair of knitting needles. She held them out until Alex hesitantly took them, and then reached into the bag for a handful of yarn scraps and another pair of needles. With all her equipment in hand, Erin tossed the bag to the floor and sat down next to a bewildered looking Alex.

“I happen to be working on my own collection of Christmas gifs during my breaks, but I’m gonna consider this my good deed of the day,” Erin said. “I’m gonna show you how to make a scarf. Easy peasy, and once you get the hang of it, you should be able to dash it off in your free time over the next few days.”

They spent their breaks, lunch, and an extra twenty minutes after their shift ended in the locker room making sure that Alex had gotten the hang of knitting. After Erin left for the day, grinning delightedly at her progress, Alex sat there for another hour, adding inches to the scarf that grew progressively neater. She reluctantly folded up her scarf in progress and grabbed her coat and bag. It was a huge relief knowing that she’d have something for Patience that she could be proud to give her. Which reminded her, she needed to handle a few important arrangements.

First she texted Jack, letting him know she’d received her orders. She was about to text Jody, but while debating whether to try to sneak her knitting home with her she decided to call her instead. If nothing else, Jody would know how to handle this. Alex dithered in the locker room waiting for the call to connect.

“Hey, Alex, is everything okay? I was expecting you home over an hour ago.”

“I’m fine, Jody. Still at the hospital, but Erin gave me some help getting started on my secret Santa gift.”

“Is this the same Erin who knitted you that hat you’ve been wearing for the last few months?”

Alex confirmed it.

Jody was quiet for a second, so Alex rushed on.

“If someone was trying to keep something secret from someone who is highly likely to accidentally spoil her own surprise, entirely by accident, what could that person do to, uh... keep them from doing that?”

Alex thought that was vague enough to keep Jody from having too much information about her gift and its recipient, but just enough information to understand her dilemma. After a few uncomfortable beats where Alex was sorely tempted to spill everything, Jody came through like she knew she would.

“Ah, I see..” Jody said. “I think a person in that situation could keep their gift somewhere where that person would never find it, and maybe arrange it with someone they trust to help create any necessary diversions. Like telling you that Claire and I are the only ones currently at home, in case you needed to sneak anything into the house.”

Alex breathed out a sigh of relief and stuffed her knitting in her bag. “Okay then, I’ll figure something out. If I’m gonna finish this by Christmas, I’m gonna need to work on it at home, too. Thanks, Jody. I’m on my way there now.”

She worked on Patience’s gift during every break at work, and every night after everyone else went to sleep. Luckily Patience’s schedule was just as hectic, and they rarely had occasion to run into one another over the next few days. With one day to spare, she stopped by the store on her way home and bought a cute little snowman print gift bag and sheets of sparkly silver paper to wrap her scarf in. And as far as she knew, Patience was never any the wiser.

Now they only had to make it through the six hour drive to the bunker, and the stress of the gift exchange.


	13. Patience - by anysavagecandance

Buy a gift for Claire. Okay, it sounded simple enough when she got the call from Jack, but now Patience sat staring at the blank page in the notebook before her, the word IDEAS written as its mocking header and her pencil tap-tap-tapping out her restlessness. Ten minutes of brainstorming and nothing. She was good at organising her thoughts. It was really the only thing she knew she was good at, so the blank page was stressing her out at all levels. She’d never done well with underperformance.

She let the pen go, getting to her feet as it rolled across her desk and stopped, the sudden lack of noise making her look at it as she began to pull on her shoes. The pen had been halted by a framed photograph of Patience’s grandmother.

“Yeah, I know,” Patience said impatiently, looking at Missouri’s smiling face. “Relax and breathe, right? Know how many times I’ve tried telling Claire that?” Patience raised her eyebrows, grabbing her coat as she told the photograph a perfunctory: “Exactly,” and headed out the door.

She paused in the living room, looking around Jody’s belongings and thinking that this is where Claire seemed to feel at ease even though she resisted it and left at every opportunity, this was home. Patience did something she rarely permitted herself to do, because it felt intrusive unless Jody gave her express permission: Patience reached for a framed photograph of Claire, Jody, Alex and Patience, holding onto it and waiting for the possible flash of sensory impressions.

It came slowly this time. She was getting better at controlling how the information was interpreted by her brain when she was choosing to look for it herself. It was satisfying, but the only impression she got from the frame was of Jody’s worry and her internalised, quieted wish to keep Claire safe at all costs. Patience smiled, putting the frame back, because with that wish came a resolution to acknowledge that letting Claire make mistakes and learn from them was the best way to keep her out of serious trouble.

No insight into Claire to be had there, though. 

Patience headed out the front door, walking across the lawn, digging her hands into the pockets of her thick winter coat - she was perpetually cold anyway, and the winters in Sioux Falls were brutal -  heading towards Main and the small bric-a-brac shop that was an amalgamation of trinkets, second hand furniture and books of every kind. 

Patience liked it there. In one of the corners, backed up against two stocked bookshelves, was a deep sofa that she’d grown to love, one that she hoped would never get sold, and Mr. Britton, the owner, let her curl up on it with her coat for a blanket and whatever book inspired her to grab it off the nearest shelf. That corner with that sofa and all those other worlds in neat, labeled rows had become her sanctuary. And, perhaps, if she was honest, her refuge. She spent a lot of time pouring over her textbooks from school there, too. It was good to do it out of the house.

Life was a little crazy most days.

Especially with Claire coming home with bruises that Alex patiently patched up and that made Patience want to raise her voice and say something that would make Claire stop and think. Just think of the consequences, for once. But Claire was always ten steps ahead - never in the moment - and Claire was so used to it that Patience felt like perhaps there was no point in trying to press her own way of approaching things onto Claire, no matter how much Patience thought Claire might benefit.

Claire wouldn’t listen anyway. She never did.

The door of the shop didn’t have a bell - Mr Britton had taken it down after some local kids started thinking it was a lot of fun pushing the door open to make it jingle, and then run away before Mr Britton could catch them (he’d always hated it anyway, he’d told her, and was thankful for the incentive) - but there was still an inviting whoosh of the door against the carpet as she entered, and then an even quieter one as the door slowly closed behind her.

It was empty today, but it was still early. Mr Britton was standing behind the short counter, writing in one of his notebooks. He was almost always writing something in one of his notebooks. He looked up, though, giving her a warm smile. He was one of the kindest people she knew and she smiled back with ease. They didn’t need to say anything. They were at that stage of understanding why they both enjoyed spending time in the same space, and that was that. It made her feel strangely safe.

The shop smelled of its collected age, sitting on neat display all around, the creaky old wooden floor covered with threadbare rugs that were not for sale, and there was a big sign on one wall informing new customers of it. Mr Britton liked to keep the place well-stocked, but detested clutter so everything was orderly, and though the place was cramped, it was inviting. 

Patience realised now she’d never quite understood how inviting it really was. Probably because she so rarely came in here with the intention to spend money. She’d bought some of the books she’d read, but she couldn’t afford to deck out her sparse room and make it her own, not while she was still at school. She’d thought about getting a job, but her studies were too gruelling at the moment.

She sighed softly, eyes landing on a box of old keys. She kept her coat on as she headed up to it. It was sat atop a polished little table flanked by two austere-looking chairs. She hesitated, but then drew a breath, readying herself for a possible onslaught of impressions as she picked up a small, rusty key. Before she knew it, she was smiling at the warmth and love flooding her chest: whoever had owned the key had cherished what it was meant to unlock. 

She put it back, thinking someone else’s key probably wouldn’t work to unlock Claire.

It wasn’t that they didn’t get along. They did get along pretty well, especially lately. Claire had stayed around Sioux Falls ever since Jody told her about dark!Kaia, and it was obvious to everyone that Claire was waiting for Jody to get a call from Dean and Sam, that she was refusing to be far away on a hunt and miss out on a possible confrontation, but Claire still kept a smile on, trying to make it out as though the appearance of dark!Kaia hadn’t rocked her entire world.

She’d been researching all things otherworldly ever since the incident with the rift and Kaia and she wasn’t exactly slowing down, now that research was all she had to preoccupy herself with. She was basing it in any source she could get her hands on. In the past few weeks Patience had even heard her on the phone to other hunters, asking for lore. She’d never heard her call Dean or Sam, though, which she found a little odd. Wouldn’t they understand why she’d want in on it? Wouldn’t they even encourage it, from what Patience understood of their code of honor and all that? Wasn’t that where Claire had learned hers?

It wasn’t really any of Patience’s business, she supposed. She’d barely said two words to their Kaia. It wasn’t her vendetta, and if Claire keeping up appearances for Jody meant that she was easier to be around for the time being, Patience wasn’t going to complain. It was just that damn stubbornness she took issue with. It hadn’t gone anywhere, it was just badly hidden behind smiles and agreement, sharing shoes and clothes without a second’s pause, and complimenting Patience on her hair, for Christ’s sakes.

And Claire’s unwillingness to consider any other path than the one right in front of her had always been her greatest weakness. That uncompromising self-assurance that wasn’t self-assured at all. Patience could tell, could sense the fear just beneath the surface, and the anger, constant and blinding, like a filter of emotion taking away Claire’s ability to see anything clearly.

Patience sighed again, turning her head to her corner with a longing to disappear into it for a few hours, but telling herself that wasn’t what she was there for. Better get her task over and done with.

And she knew why it was proving so difficult. She knew why that list she’d tried to make had remained blank. She knew all too well why she couldn’t think of a single thing to get her frustrating, often very annoying and aloof friend.

Because if she was honest with herself, the truth was that she had grown to respect Claire and her tenacity and her fierce independence in ways she never would’ve expected. Claire had a heart that she didn’t feel comfortable showing - especially to herself - and when she did properly show how much she cared about the people around her, it was like clouds parting and the sun coming out. It made Patience wish she knew how to part those clouds more often, or that she could find someone who could, because Claire deserved it. She deserved to have a reason to laugh and chill and open up. They all did. Patience quietly hoped this Christmas would prove just the thing.

And the truth was that she wanted her gift to mean something to Claire.

Patience’s eyes roved the books again, but no. Claire didn’t need more stuff to read. 

Maybe a mirror for her wall? No. Claire wasn’t the mirror kind of girl, not really, for all the fun Alex made of her, Claire was very laid back. She could lose chunks of that blonde mane of hers in a fight and not even blink at her scalp bleeding. 

Patience swallowed.

They were so different. How was she supposed to do this?

The sound of a pencil rolling across wood made her turn her head, eyes widening slightly, as the sound stopped. 

Mr Britton picked up the pencil without a very long pause, he’d simply lost his grip on it, Patience assumed - he had butter fingers and he jokingly blamed his wife for insisting on slathering every piece of food in the golden grease - but that sound was linked to a prompt, and so it prompted her to move up to the counter, stopping in front of it and looking inside it, as the countertop was made of glass.

“What’re those?” Patience asked as she eyed the contents with a growing sense of excitement.

“Stones,” Mr Britton replied and Patience gave him a look that of course she knew what they were, but, clearly, there was more to them if they were underneath a glass and only he could handle them. “Some crystals, too,” he said, putting the pencil down and reaching for the tray beneath the glass, pulling it out of its slots and putting it in front of her. “Tiger’s eye, garnet, malachite, turquoise, amethyst, jade, amber… Different properties for different purposes. Fifteen bucks for three.”

She smiled at his salesman’s side and he smiled right back, her eyes going to the polished stones on their bed of black velvet. Perhaps it was a silly idea. Perhaps Claire would scoff and scorn and say it was superstition, but…

Patience hesitated, then reached for the malachite. It was a rather enticing striped pattern where a deep and dark green played with a few shades of lighter green, and it was smooth to the touch and perfectly circular. The moment she closed her hand around it, she began to feel her energy focus itself into a pattern that almost made her feel light headed as the worries and concerns she’d felt at somehow letting Claire down by not finding her something that would speak to her began to leave her. Peace slowly settled throughout her entire nervous system and Patience smiled again, opening her eyes and looking at Mr Britton.

“Wow,” she said.

“Won’t work the same on everyone,” he warned with a wink, but she didn’t need it.

She knew the effect wouldn’t be the same on Claire, but that didn’t mean there would be none at all. If Claire could feel even a little of what Patience had just felt and tap into whatever network of shared energy that the stone was a link to, then that was all Patience could hope for. That sense of peace and focus would protect Claire when she needed it to, if she’d let it.

“Want it as a necklace?” Mr Britton asked and Patience stared at him as if he was a mind reader and he chuckled. “I’ll do it now, but it’ll take a minute. You know, how about you fill this out?” he said, handing her something from behind the counter.

“What’s this?” Patience asked, frowning at the form in her hands as it was asking for personal information.

“A job application,” Mr Britton said. “I could keep it off the books, but I figured, way this country is at the moment, better keep it above line. Won’t pay much, but since you’re here all the time anyway, figured you might as well help out now and again. Could use it, if you’re up for it.”

Patience didn’t know what to say, and before she could react he’d shuffled off to the back to make the offered pendant. Patience decided quickly, grabbing the pencil off the notebook and filling out the form. She’d just finished when Mr Britton came back, showing off the pendant and putting a box of different length and size chains in front of her. She picked a longer one, so that the pendant could be hid from view, if Claire wanted it to be, if she liked it enough to wear it. Perhaps she’d wear it more often if it wasn’t necessarily a fashion statement. 

And the long chain meant it would rest against her heart.

Patience thanked Mr Britton for the job offer and they shook hands, making everything very formal and both of them laughing at it. They already had a bit of a routine down, with Patience going for afternoon coffee or tea, whatever the mood was, and usually bringing back something to eat. Fruit or a bag of assorted nuts and sometimes she’d splurge on pastry, which would make Mr Britton’s eyes brighten with delight. She left the shop with a spring in her step.

Heading back to Jody’s she decided on the long route home, pulling in a deep breath of the cold winter air, letting it fill her lungs before breathing it out, suddenly enjoying the feeling. 

A Christmas spent together was just what everyone needed and now she felt, more than ever, that they were starting a new tradition. One that would bring them all under the same roof at least once a year. After all, wasn’t that what Christmas was really all about?

With that thought in mind, and considering how suddenly everything that had felt so irksome seemed to have aligned itself for her, she felt it was better to do something she’d been putting off for a while. She pulled out her cell-phone and called her father, to tell him of her holiday plans and to ensure him she’d be home to celebrate the New Year with him. She’d invite him to Donna’s cabin, as per Jody’s instruction, but she knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable. She wished she could mend the wound she’d caused him when she’d walked out of his house, but until he could support her in her choice without continually questioning it, how could she? It was Christmas, though, and she wanted him to know that she loved him. No matter what.

Without thinking about it she realised she’d reached into her pocket and was clutching the necklace in her hand. Perhaps it was the season for all of them to mend wounds. Patience knew where Claire’s anger was rooted, but she wondered if Claire did, or if she just used it as fuel and didn’t want to think about it any further than that. Patience thought it was funny that no matter their differences, they did have some very similar complications in their relationship with their parents.

Patience’s hold on the necklace tightened.

Mend, she thought quietly to herself as she heard her father’s voice in her ear saying her name. Mend, she repeated, before she smiled at no one in particular and drew a breath to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [amwritingmeta](http://amwritingmeta.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [anysavagecandance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysavagecandance) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!


	14. Cas - by MittenWraith

Castiel had kept himself busy over the three days since Jack had first raised the subject of a family holiday party. He and Jack had been planning and preparing to cook what they hoped would be a delicious Christmas dinner. They’d agreed it would serve them well to experiment a bit with various recipes Cas had found online before diving in to prepare such a large feast on Christmas day. Dean had side-eyed their first forays into stuffing and candied sweet potatoes that night, but had given in and agreed to help when Jack had suggested they attempt to bake a pumpkin pie. Several trips to the grocery store later, Cas was finally assured that they would have everything in order come the party.

On one of their trips to Hastings, Jack had insisted they bring home a Christmas tree. They both agreed the bunker needed something a little greener than the ancient wreaths Dean had found them in one of the storage closets, and had sprung for several long coils of pine garland to drape around the stair rails, as well. They’d loaded the back of Cas’s truck with strings of lights they’d been informed were the brightest the lumber yard had for sale, but Jack had declined Cas’s offer to pick up any other ornaments. He’d had a different plan in mind for their tree.

As he sat alone in the library late one night after everyone else had retired to bed, Cas admired the twinkling lights and Jack’s hand strung popcorn and cranberry garland. Jack’s current project lay strewn across the other table-- an assembly line of paper cutouts he was decorating with glitter and hanging on the tree.  So far there was one for every member of their extended family who’d be there for Christmas, their names sparkling in a rainbow of color, as well as an assortment of snowflakes, candy canes, and gingerbread men. He’d even made an illuminated star out of a discarded tin pie pan to sit on top.

It was what was below the tree-- or rather what  _ wasn’t _ yet below the tree-- that had Cas in a state of dismay. Ever since Jack had cheerfully handed him that dreaded envelope and left him in peace to confront his doom, Cas had been fretting over what to get for Dean. Sitting there alone, with only the warm and cheerful holiday lights to keep him company, he knew he was running out of time.

His first instinct had been to make Dean a pie. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. For one thing, he’d have to present Dean with his gift in front of everyone they considered family, and Dean would never be embarrassed or uncomfortable about expressing his happiness over a good pie, even in mixed company. There were just so many reasons a pie also seemed like an entirely unsatisfactory gift now that he’d had a few days to consider it.

Once upon a time he’d tried to buy a pie for Dean in a desperate attempt to express his regret, but that memory was now tarnished. His attempted apology had led to an even greater burden of guilt. Even if Dean never knew about that failed attempt to bring him something he loved, Cas would know.

Even a homemade pie, infused with all the love Cas could pour into the baking, wouldn’t suffice now. He’d bought the ingredients on their first shopping trip, just in case he wasn’t able to come up with a more suitable gift, but Dean had more often than not been joining them in the kitchen since then, and he’d simply run out of time to bake in secret. He’d even tried late at night, but the noise and aromas always brought Dean to the kitchen, no matter the time.

No, he needed something more meaningful to express his feelings to Dean than something he’d consume and then likely forget about in time. Over the last ten years, Dean had become the most important person in his life, and there had to be something he could give Dean to make that clear. And something that would also be appropriate to give to Dean while their entire family looked on.

He’d run through a dozen different ideas already, but discarded each of them in turn. While he’d sat there musing and fretting, he’d lost track of time. Dean shuffled in and handed him a cup of coffee, and Cas blinked up at him, pulling himself from his thoughts.

“What time is it?”

Dean pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down with his own cup of coffee. “It’s early. I think I’m gonna head out to find something to buy for my secret Santa. Wanted to beat the traffic.”

Cas nodded slowly, remembering it was now only two days before Christmas. The stores would likely be filled to overflowing with people who’d left their holiday shopping until the last minute. The thought only made him dread trying to find a gift for Dean all the more.

“I suppose I should do the same. I haven’t had much chance to shop, outside of buying groceries.”

Dean made a pained face at that. “Yeah, well, I hope you have better luck than I’ve been having. I don’t have the first idea what to get. I’m not much of a holiday shopper.”

“Yes, well,” Cas replied, doing his best to give Dean a smile even though it felt just as painted as Dean’s frown. “I’m sure your recipient will appreciate whatever you pick for them.”

Dean heaved a sigh and pushed back from the table. “Yeah, I hope so. Uh, good luck with your shopping.”

“You too, Dean.”

For a moment, Dean hesitated, as if about to say something else, but then he just nodded, collected his coffee mug and headed out. Cas blew out a breath and stood up. He followed a minute or two after Dean to rinse out his own cup, half expecting to find Dean still puttering around the kitchen, but he was already gone. There was no more putting it off. Sitting in the bunker hadn’t brought him any closer to an idea, so maybe he should follow Dean’s lead and spend the day shopping. He quietly left the bunker before Jack could wake up and rope him into baking again.

Cas drove for what seemed like hours, no particular destination in mind but stopping at every small town store he passed. A general store outside of Hastings was having a sale on kitchen appliances, and Dean had mentioned wanting to get a new mixer to step up his bread baking and pie crust making, but that hardly seemed like the sort of gift that said  _ I cherish our friendship and if given the choice to do it all over again exactly the same way including all the dumbass mistakes that broke the Cosmic Order multiple times if it meant being able to remain in your life _ . He wasn’t even sure such a gift existed, but he pressed on.

Six small towns and nine shops later, he hadn’t found anything better than the mixer. It was starting to get dark, and several of the shops he’d passed had already closed for the evening. He was just considering turning around and going home, maybe stopping by the bakery he’d passed an hour back and buying a selection of pies on his way, when he drove past an antique store and immediately pulled into the parking lot. He realized it was a vain hope that he’d find anything better than the mixer or the pies, but he’d resolved himself to making a decision. If he didn’t find anything in this shop, he’d go back to the general store and buy the half price mixer. Dean would love it, he was sure, even if it didn’t particularly carry the personal sentiment he’d wanted to convey. At least it would be something useful for Dean to have. And wasn’t that what Cas had wanted most for Dean? Useful wasn’t a bad thing to be, after all.

He steeled himself for disappointment and pushed his way into the small store, expecting to find the same sort of crowds he’d been encountering all day. The store was quiet, aside from a gentle orchestral medley of holiday songs playing softly from a speaker in the back room. A woman sat behind the counter, knitting a festive red and green striped sock. She smiled up at him when he entered and set her work down.

“Merry Christmas,” she greeted. “Are you looking for something particular tonight?”

Cas returned her smile and shook his head. “Just a gift I need to buy for someone who means the world to me.”

“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips and giving him the once over. “Did you have something in mind?” The woman waved her hand around at the variety of wares in her shop, ranging from meticulously restored antique furniture to the eclectic collection of art and light fixtures covering the walls. “Does your friend have any special interests? I always say we have something for everyone in here. If you know what you’re looking for, I can help you find it.”

Cas frowned at that and his shoulders slumped. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

The woman’s smile turned mischievous, and she stood up and came around the counter to stand by his side. “Are you sure? Because you look like a man who knows what he wants.”

Cas let her words and her absolute certainty wash over him. Yes, he absolutely did know what  _ he _ wanted. It was the only thing he’d wanted for a very long time. He was also sure that whoever his secret Santa was didn’t have the power to give it to him. He just had no idea what  _ Dean _ wanted. And therein lay his dilemma. He didn’t have long to worry about it before the woman took him by the elbow and carefully steered him around tables covered with vases and lamps and antique silver picture frames.

“You can call me Gwen, by the way. We’ll make sure you leave here with the absolute perfect gift, you just wait and see.”

“I’m Cas,” he replied, slightly bewildered at this turn of events. He hadn’t had a single person offer to help him all day, and if nothing else, this was a refreshing change of pace.

“Okay, Cas, tell me about this friend of yours.”

His brow wrinkled as he attempted to boil Dean Winchester down into a few pithy words that would guide Gwen in her certainty that she had the perfect gift stashed somewhere in among all the tchotchkes and baubles. He wasn’t sure it was even possible to convey what he thought of Dean in mere words. He cleared his throat.

“He’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” he began, and then described Dean as he distracted himself looking at a collection of colorful hand-blown glass spheres hanging from the ceiling, and a heavy steamer trunk that looked like something the pirates in the movie Dean had made him watch the other night had stashed their treasure in. He caught himself laughing, and then had to relate the anecdote to Gwen.

She gave him a curious look for a moment and then nodded firmly, turning them around and leading him back to the front of the shop. “I think you might find something more… personal up in the jewelry selection. I think what you need for someone like that is something precious. Agreed?”

Cas bewilderingly found that, yes, he agreed completely. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner, the way Gwen made it seem so obvious. Dean wore jewelry. He had his watch, but he used to wear a ring until he’d lost it, and a collection of bracelets a long time ago. Then there was the necklace he’d reluctantly handed over to Cas almost ten years ago. He’d never taken it off before that, but he’d never worn it again after. It felt like a small piece of Dean had gone with it, and while Cas couldn’t give that exact piece back, he could maybe give him something else he’d feel just as sentimental toward.

Gwen moved around behind her counter and cleared away her knitting so Cas could see into the glass topped jewelry cases. She had a fascinating collection of pieces laid out on black velvet that ranged from very old estate jewelry to a small collection of natural stones inlaid in silver arranged in front of a sign that read  _ Handmade by Maude Jenkins _ . Gwen caught him marveling at some of the designs and was compelled to explain the collection of new jewelry in an antique store.

“My sister makes these. I promised her a little corner of the display case when she took up the hobby.”

Cas bent down to peer at the jewelry more closely. Each piece was like a tiny work of art, capturing the beauty of the stones with intricate and masterful silverwork. He couldn’t really see Dean wearing any of these delicate pieces, until he noticed a strange, dark metal ring at the front of the collection. Beside it was a little sign that read  _ cast from an iron meteor, collected in 2008 near Pontiac, Illinois _ .

“I’ll take that,” he said without looking up from the ring, a feeling of  bubbling giddiness threatening to overtake him. “You were right, you do have something for everyone in here.”

Gwen rung up his purchase, wished him and his friend a very merry Christmas, and suddenly he was back in his car and driving toward home. The closer he got, the more the giddiness faded, and reality crept back in. The ring had seemed like the perfect gift at the time, but he hadn’t even considered what giving Dean a ring-- especially in front of their entire family-- might seem like. Doubt filled him, and he nearly laughed at the thought. It was those doubts that had begun collecting  _ in 2008 near Pontiac, Illinois _ that had brought him this far. But maybe Christmas morning surrounded by their family wasn’t the right moment to share this extraordinary revelation with Dean.

He passed by that general store again, and in a fit of consternation, he went in and got an excellent deal on a new stand mixer. At least he’d be sure to have something to give to Dean in case his doubts got the better of him.


	15. Dean - by WinJennster

Of course he got Cas. Of course he did. Dean didn’t for one moment want to doubt Jack and his guileless Christmas enthusiasm, but he’d seen the twinkle in those innocent eyes. Jack’s smile had been slightly too wide when he handed Dean his assigned giftee.

The others had seemed so happy to have their assignments. Dean felt like Scrooge for even being the least bit out of sorts, but how did you compile ten years of wow thank you for saving my life more times than I can count into an appropriate gift? Hell, what even was the appropriate gift for that? "Nut up, Winchester," he chastised himself. "You're thinking too hard."

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, Metallica providing a throbbing back beat to his noisy thoughts. He passed the exits for Topeka and Lawrence, figuring he might as well drive the two hundred odd miles to Kansas City and hit up the big, fancy malls there. He had $2000 dollars in poker money plus a stolen card with another $1500 on it. Dean figured he ought to find something worth giving Cas, even if this four hour drive for a shopping trip was high on the ridiculous. Maybe he’d just spend the night up there.

Three hours after arriving in KC, Dean was ready to tear his hair out. As it turns out, there’s no gift that says thank you for saving my life more times that I count.

So far, he had picked up and set back down the following:

-a pie cookbook (because that would be for him, not Cas)

-a pair of hiking boots (no idea why he thought that was a winner)

-a car cleaning kit for the truck Cas picked up somewhere (Dean always did the car care for him anyway)

-an Angelology book (which had a shit ton of information wrong, also? Way to rub salt in that wound, Dean)

-a new TV (are you even trying???)

Since Dean had managed to exhaust himself, he decided to go sit in Starbucks for a while and think. He nursed a pumpkin spice frappuccino without even caring who looked. The damn thing tasted good!

A man about Cas’s height walked past Dean, decked out in a black three piece suit. He turned and saw Dean sitting there with his frap and gave him a warm, friendly smile. Dean felt his cheeks heat and he stared down at his drink.

Fuck, that suit was amazing.

“And he’s about my height, maybe an inch or two shorter? We’re the same size everywhere except his thighs are way thicker than mine, and his shoulders are a bit broader.” Dean used his hands to gesture the differences to the tailor, who stared at him opened mouthed.

“So uh--you want a three piece suit for someone else based on your measurements but with thicker thighs and broader shoulders?” She put her hands on her hips. “That is not how tailored suits work, buddy.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

A look of pity ran across the woman’s face. “Maybe we can figure something out. I’ve got some premade pieces we can probably make work, or were you hell bent on bespoke?”

“No, I mean. He just doesn’t have anything really nice and I just wanted to--you know what? Forget it.” Dean turned to go and the woman reached out and touched his arm.

“I can help. I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard. I’m Alyssa, by the way.”

“Dean.”

“Ok, Dean. You mentioned black, and that you want a waistcoat. Let’s get some stuff and try it on you. We can make sure to leave room for your boyfriend’s-”

“Friend. Just my friend.”

She looked perplexed. “Kind of a lot of money to spend on just a friend,” Alyssa commented, turning away from Dean to pull things from a rack. “Go. Dressing room. I’ll bring stuff.” She pointed in the direction of the room and he went, kicking himself the whole way about the “just friends” bullshit when Dean knew damn well it was more than that.

Alyssa proved to be incredibly competent at least, and an hour later, Dean left the menswear store with a lovely new suit for Cas in hand, along with a bright blue silk tie and crisp white shirt. He’d even bought shoes, since he knew Cas was a full size bigger than him.

But now, as he wandered the mall, $1800 poorer, Dean wondered if he’d picked the right gift. The others surely weren’t going to spend $1800 on each other, and probably no one would spend $1800 on him. Dean wondered who had his name. Were they as stressed out as he was?

He melted into a plush chair across from a Claire’s Boutique, smiling at the name. He wished he’d have gotten Claire. She’d have been easier for sure. Dean would’ve have gotten her some cool, slick leather jacket.

Huh. Maybe Cas would look great in a slick leather jacket. And $300 later, Dean had a slick leather jacket in Cas’s size and another mountain full of doubts--and a weird, sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.

Dean pushed into the Macy’s bathroom and carefully hung his purchases on the inside of the stall door. He sat, fully clothed, on the toilet, blinking his burning eyes and trying desperately to will the tears away.

This, this was ridiculous. Full on, having a meltdown in a Macy’s bathroom over a Christmas present. Why the ever loving hell did this matter so much?

The tears won and Dean buried his face in his hands, sniffling. When the tears finally subsided, he lifted his head again. A handful of toilet paper soaked up his tears. He finally felt stable enough to gather himself and leave the bathroom.

“Christmas is hard, ain’t it boy?” An old man plunked his bag down on the counter. “Was better when my Liza was still around to do all this shopping bullshit, but I got grandkids I don’t wanna disappoint.” He started washing his hands, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye. “What’s got you down, sonny?”

“Not sure what to get someone I care about.”

The old dude glanced at Dean’s parcels. “Looks like you got a fair amount already.”

“Yeah, but it’s not--it’s not right,” he mumbled.

“You know, Liza and I went through some patches where we were damn poor and those were some of our favorite Christmases. Ain’t ‘bout the gifts. ‘Bout the thought behind the gifts. Remember that.” He dried his hands and picked up his bag. “And someday, when they’re gone, all you’ll want is them back. All those gifts don’t mean a damn.” He patted Dean on the back as he left. “Good luck, kid.”

Dean gathered himself and left the bathroom as well. He wandered out of Macy’s and into the corridors of the mall, watching as much happier people moved about and did their shopping. Somehow, the cavernous mall left him feeling utterly claustrophobic.

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered to himself, turning and heading for the exit closest to the Impala. Dean reached car, cold sweat beading on his brow. He carefully stowed his stuff in the trunk and got himself settled in the driver’s seat.

His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty, too. Dean realized he was absolutely the most pathetic, ridiculous creature in the entire state of Kansas...maybe even the entire country.

Firing up his girl, he pointed her westward, ready to get as much distance as possible between him and Kansas City.

Somewhere just east of Manhattan, his phone chimed. He glanced at it, quickly reading the simple “get milk” text from Sam. Sighing, he watched the exits and took the one for Manhattan, knowing there was a Walmart in town.

The Walmart parking lot was utterly mobbed, as was the Hy-Vee across the road. He decided he’d just go to the little convenience store a bit closer to the bunker. Dean turned the Impala around to head back out onto the highway, but got mixed up and ended up driving through downtown Manhattan. A little diner twinkled with Christmas lights, and since Dean’s stomach decided that was the exact right time to growl, he pulled the Impala into a spot out front.

Pushing the door open, Dean took a deep breath of fried wonderland. Goddamn, he sure loved diners.

“Evening, sweetie.” Dean sat at the counter and as an older lady sat a menu in front of him. “Coffee?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

She smiled and filled his mug. “Hollar when you’re ready,” she told him, turning back to talk to the cook through the window.

Dean was the only patron in the little place, so after a quick glance around him, he perused the menu, happy to see all his fave diner options. He ordered a bacon cheeseburger with double onions and extra cheese from the aptly named Marge and when he was done enjoying his burger and gushing about how good it was, she slipped him a piece of pecan pie on the house.

He ate that with gusto as well, and Harv, the cook and owner, came out to talk while Marge closed up and locked the door.

“Everything alright?” he asked Dean, a friendly grin on his face.

“Everything was awesome. I’m glad I stopped. Needed a little cheerin’ up.”

“You’re not spending Christmas alone, are you?” Marge asked, coming back around the counter. Harv slipped an arm around her and kissed her temple.

“Uh, no. Just having a hard time coming up with a gift for someone I care about. I bought a couple of things but neither one seems right.”

“For your girl?” Harv asked.

Dean blushed. “Not exactly. We’re uh--not quite an item yet. And uh--he’s not a girl.”

“Oh.” Marge smiled. “You’ve got the hots for this fella but haven’t told him, huh?”

He didn’t think his face could get any redder. “I think he kinda knows? But I guess I want to make it official.”

“You guess?” Harv stared at him. “Better do more than guess, kid. Anyway, much as I’ve enjoyed feeding you, son, it’s time to go. Wife and I have Christmas gifts to wrap ‘fore the grandkids show up tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you. How much do I owe you?” Dean asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Pfft, put your money away. Get out of here,” Marge grinned. “And come back sometime with your man!” She and Harv ushered Dean out into the dark, locking the door behind him.

He chuckled. He’d definitely need to bring Cas back here for a burger sometime. As he turned to walk away, he caught Marge and Harv dancing cheek to cheek in the empty diner, and a wave of melancholy rolled over him.

Fuck, he didn't know what to do. He didn’t feel like he could give Cas the jacket or the suit as a suitable gift and he didn’t know what else to get.

Looking up and down Poyntz Avenue, he realized all the stores were closed, lights off, and locked up tight. Only the store directly across from the diner still had its open sign lit, and it was a jewelry store.

“Maybe a watch,” he muttered to himself, crossing the abandoned street. Although, he sure didn’t know what the hell an Angel of Fuckin’ Chuck would do with a damn watch. The store was empty when he pushed inside, not even so much as a worker to be found.

“I’m closing in fifteen!” a voice yelled from somewhere in the back.

“Ok!” Dean yelled back.

He wandered past display cases as his desperation skyrocketed once again. Cas didn’t wear watches, or gold chains, or stick pins, and any of that shit would look completely ridiculous on him. Most of the jewelry in the cases was unique, antique estate pieces designed for women anyway.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered to himself, resting his open palms on the glass case. “Fuck.” He stared down at the case, his eyes catching on a simple gold band right below.

It was a thin band, and on it were tiny engraved feathers. And just like that, Dean knew he’d found his gift.

“What did you want?” an old man asked, limping around the counter.

“Uh--” Taken aback slightly, Dean gaped.

“Well? The missus has dinner waiting.”

“Um, what size is this ring?” Dean pointed to the feathered band.

The old man fumbled with a massive keyring until he found the correct key and unlocked the case. His gnarled hand closed around the black velvet box as he pulled it from the display. “Well,” he said, lifting it close to his face. “This is a boring little scrap of gold.”

“It’s perfect,” Dean murmured.

“Hmph. It’s a men’s eight, 14 karat, $45.”

Dean knew 14 karat gold was stronger than 24 karat, he could always get the size adjusted, and the price was damn right. “I’ll take it,” Dean said, pulling out his wallet and slapping $60 on the counter. “Keep the change,” he smiled, taking the ring from the bemused old fart. “And Merry Christmas!”

Dean practically bounced out of the store, a wave of joy overtaking him. He’d found it. He’d found the perfect present for Cas and Dean absolutely couldn’t wait to give it to him. As Dean walked back to the Impala, snowflakes began to fall and he couldn’t help whistling a happy Christmas tune. Looking up at the sky, he smiled, his heart full and light.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” he murmured. Dean had found his Christmas spirit and it was time to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [winjennster](http://winjennster.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [WinJennster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130581) as well.


	16. A Christmas Miracle - by MalMuses, artwork by Kayanem

It was late enough on Christmas Eve to be considered early Christmas Day when the soft sound of wings whooshed into the bunker. The feathered arrival itself was peaceful—quite fitting for the season, even—but the quiet and calm of the bunker’s early hours didn’t remain for long. It was disrupted by an off-key rendition of Good King Wenceslas (with some very creative lyrics).

Gabriel appeared in the empty war room. He took a moment to peer around, checking no one was in sight. Satisfied, he hummed contentedly to himself, grateful that the anti-angel warding around the old Men of Letters headquarters didn’t blast him away. Clearly, the inhabitants hadn’t thought to change it since he was last here; as they believed him dead, he mused, that made sense. Evidently, they should have known better.

The archangel stood perfectly immobile as he observed, taking in the decorations that had been procured and displayed around the bunker. He was rarely completely still, and the sensation bothered him enough that he began fidgeting just for something to do; flipping his golden kazoo back and forth over his fingers, in and out, a little party trick of motion. He quieted his singing, though no one could perceive him anyway. Not even Castiel, unless he wished it. He just stood, taking in the seasonal transformation that had overtaken the bunker since he’d last seen it.

“Gotta be the kid,” he muttered to himself, looking around at the little touches of Christmas that had invaded the old Men of Letters hideaway. “Not sure Dean-o and Stretch would know what a family Christmas looked like if it bit them in the hiney.” There was something a little sad about that, he decided.

A few bedraggled old artificial wreaths hung on walls and a garland of plain fresh pine roping had been wound around the stair railing. At least it made the room smell a little festive. He gave it a flick with his finger and sauntered over to where a decent little tree had been set up in the library. It was strung with colorful lights and popcorn garlands, and other little trinkets that Jack and probably found around the bunker. They may not have had a chimney, but that hadn’t stopped Jack from tacking up a dozen or so socks along the bookshelves beside the tree.

“Hmm, festive,” Gabriel said. “Or at least…they tried.”

Gabriel often talked to himself. He always had the most interesting answers, after all.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the bunker…” Gabriel began, tiptoeing across the room. “Well, shit, nothing rhymes with bunker. Drunker? Junker… Ooh, Dean wouldn’t like that one.”

Gabriel chattered away to himself at full speed as he moved over to the Christmas tree, flicking the tiny, metallic instrument he had been fiddling with up into the air. It did a little flip before disappearing. Kazoo tidied back out of sight, Gabriel began poking idly at the pine branches.

Gabriel had a bit of a thing for Christmas. It was a party, first of all, but he’d also been rather instrumental in the first one, and he did like to hear people sing songs about him. He was pleased with the way the celebration had evolved over the years, though if he was honest, he did kinda miss the raw, unfettered rowdiness of the pagan traditions that had preceded it.

His heavy, golden wings twitched involuntarily with anticipation as an idea began to form. He finally turned from the tree, spinning on his heel with a gleam in his eye. Strolling nonchalantly through the bunker, he invited himself into every bedroom, every nook and every cranny, poking around until he found the presents. Some of them were surprising. Some amusing. Almost all of them were thoughtful, personal, or kind. Gabriel wrinkled up his nose.

“Get yourself killed for just a few months and they start living out a Hallmark movie in your absence,” he muttered to himself.

All of the goodies in the bunker uncovered, he strode back through the corridors until he ended up in the war room once again. He paused, leaning against the edge of the wide map-topped table that took up most of the space. His fingers idly walked through Russia as he arranged his thoughts, moving through the Ural Mountains before coming to an abrupt halt, his hand frozen as his lips pouted out thoughtfully.

“I mean, I could…” he mused, to the air. “I should go and wake up Lanky and Cranky. Let them know I’m back in town. Alive. In their casa.”

Gabriel knew Castiel and the Nephilim were here somewhere too. He knew their signatures, he could feel them nearby when he allowed his senses to drift out.

“Or,” he answered himself, firmly. “I could not.”

Not sounded better. He could have more fun with not.

After all, why tell the Winchesters he was alive, if he could just leave them some clues? That sounded a lot more entertaining, not to mention less likely to involve long, boring explanations.

The archangel moved across the room, climbing the iron stairs that led out of the bunker. At the top, on the landing in front of the door, he turned to lean on the metal railing. He looked down and realized that this was the exact view he’d had, many long months before, when he’d killed Asmodeus.

That might not have turned out how it did, he considered, without the Winchesters and their motley little band of misfits.

Shaking his head, Gabriel straightened up. “Getting sentimental in your old age,” he told himself. “Can’t be having that.”

He lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.

 

There weren’t a lot of party stores open that late on Christmas Eve, but Gabriel didn’t actually need them to be open. Stealing was, of course, a sin, but he also didn’t really consider it theft. He was the messenger of God, and everything on Earth belonged to God. His, someone else’s, owned, free… it was just semantics. It was just simpler to wander around and gain inspiration than to have to summon up new items from scratch, he told himself.

Gabriel didn’t dwell on the fact that, despite his careful rest and recovery, he wasn’t back to full power. Snapping things up from nothing still wasn’t quite as simple as it used to be, but oh well, he could rest tomorrow. He was here for fun, not realism.

Freezing the security system with a simple flick of his wrist, Gabriel grabbed himself a shopping cart. Leaning into it, he ran a few steps to gain momentum, then kicked his feet up off the ground and sailed the cart on down the first aisle with a childish whoop of glee.

Gabriel had been around longer than almost anything that still existed. He'd passed outside of time, his wing-tips had trailed against the very edges of the universe. But still, there was little that entertained him more than party decorations. He took in every row of excessive consumerism with glee; this, he thought, was exactly what free will was made for.

Even so, there was the odd thing that puzzled even him.

“Yikes,” he muttered to himself, passing all the gift wrap and bows that America seemed to have decided Christmas required. “There’s gotta be a few acres of rainforest in here. Humans.” He rolled his eyes, moving on.

He wasn’t here for wrapping paper. He was really more of a gift box guy. And he hadn’t come for presents either, not precisely.

He wanted to give the Winchesters a little clue that he was back, that if they really needed an archangel once more…he’d be there. But he wasn’t about to set up house. No gifts under the tree from dirty Uncle Gabe.

Firstly, he wanted to spruce up the decorations a little. Give them a little more pizzazz. And a tad more glitter.

He soared down the tree decoration aisle on his cart, warbling ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, and grabbing handfuls of everything that glittered or sparkled obscenely. Tacky tinsel, baubles that played music, and a golden rotating angel that glowed to go on top of the tree. A fluffy tree skirt that looked like a holdover from a Christmas porn movie, snowflake garlands, and irritating toys that started singing hymns whenever someone walked past made it into his cart.

Gabriel was gonna make that bunker look like the spirit of Christmas had the stomach flu.

He perused a little further, doing some quick math to count out how many Christmas stockings he should grab. He grabbed extra ribbons, and glitter, and confetti, and with far too much delight grabbed a few packages of plastic kazoos. Somehow, everything magically fit into the overflowing shopping cart without losing a single tacky piece.

The candy aisle proved to be quite the distraction, but eventually, Gabriel was done. With a tiny kazoo fanfare, he snapped his fingers to return the store security back on. Taking a second to wink at the camera, he leaned his weight onto to the shopping cart once more. He kicked off, zooming down the final aisle, and disappeared into nothing.

 

“Ding-dong merrily on hiiiiiigh...” Gabriel yowled victoriously, spinning around in the center of the war room, glitter spraying out from his hands like shiny, irritating, impossible-to-clean-up fairy dust. “In Heaven, the bells are riiiiinging,” he crooned on.

Snapping his fingers, he festooned the ceiling with loops of tinsel, before crossing his arms.

“Not that we actually have any bells in Heaven,” he mused, taking a step back toward the tree. He reached up, attempting to place the rotating, musical angel on top of the huge pine that took up an entire corner of the room. (Alright, so perhaps he had upgraded the tree just a little. Who wouldn’t?)

After a couple of attempts at reaching the top of it he scowled, admitted defeat, and dragged a chair over to climb on. Plopping the angel right on the pinnacle of the tree, he hummed thoughtfully, watching it spin around.

“Something is missing…” Gabriel mused, his whiskey-colored eyes grazing up and down the decoration thoughtfully. Suddenly it came to him, and he broke out into a wicked grin.

With a quick snap of his fingers, a tiny beige trench coat appeared on the angel tree-topper.

“That’s better. Every angel with a stick up his ass should have a trench coat,” he announced to no one in particular, climbing down from the chair, which helpfully reseated itself under the table with a flick of his fingers.

Surveying the room slowly, Gabriel took in the miles of garland, herds of ornamental reindeer and inflatable Santas that occupied every inch of the bunker’s main communal space.

“Good, good,” he muttered, tapping his lips with his fingers.

Moving over to the corner of the room, he surveyed the small pile of Christmas stockings he had obtained. It had been easy enough to work out from the presents he’d found how many he needed to provide, and the names of the recipients. Most were familiar, some not.

Filling the stockings with candy took a little longer than intended, but he did stop for a snack several times. Each of the traditional red stockings, bearing a strip of white fur around the top, bulged obscenely with diabetes by the time he was done.

Walking to the other end of the room, Gabriel looked around, humming. There was no fireplace in the bunker; probably for the best, from an underground safety perspective. But, there was a thick stone lintel that capped the alcove where a huge telescope sat. That would do just fine. A few more finger-clicks and each of the stockings dangled from a stout hook in the beam. Labelled with the names he’d lifted from the gift packages, the stockings drooped invitingly, heavy with sugary swag.

Just one final touch.

Gabriel stretched his wings out, turning his head and rotating the lower wing joint so he could survey them critically. Aha—there. Exactly what he needed. One of his left secondary coverts sat at an angle, lifted just a tad away from its neighbors. He reached back, drifting his fingers through his wings in a grooming motion, until the golden-brown feather softly slid out into his hand.

He held it up and spun it slowly between his fingers, eyeing the shining archangel feather critically. A rare thing, these days. Its edges shimmered tellingly, but Gabriel figured that even if the brothers couldn’t work out who it was from, they had their pet seraph to help them.

Grinning, he reached forward and tucked the feather into the top of Sam’s stocking. Looking at Dean’s next to it, he smirked and snapped a lump of coal into the matching spot. Just for balance.

Stepping back, Gabriel slowly spun around, surveying the overload of Christmas that had now arrived in the bunker.

Oh! His amber eyes widened with glee. One last thing… Just one.

With a clap of his hands he was gone; in just a few moments, he returned.

“Ugh!” Shaking his wings and shoulders, Gabriel dislodged some snow that clung greedily to his jacket. In his arms he carried a giant ball of mistletoe, fresh and dewy. He strolled through the bunker from one end to another, festooning every doorway he could find.

“With you, shawty with you…” Gabriel sang, shameless in his Bieber as he made every room entrance a trap. “With you, under the mistletoe!”

Finally done, he observed his handiwork. The bunker was a riot of Christmas color and sparkle. The tree exploded with cheer, stockings were hung, seasonal music played from some indiscernible place in the air and snow, real snow, swirled in the corners, mysteriously disappearing without making the floor wet.

It was magical.

Tacky as hell, maybe, but that was a matter of opinion, Gabriel thought. With a smile that was fonder than he’d care to admit, he decided that the Winchesters, their friends, and his spunky little Nephilim nephew would love it.

It was a risk, perhaps, to give them this and let them know that he was around. But, as he’d said once before; if shit was going to hit the fan, he knew where he’d place his bets. They hadn’t let him down yet, even if the results of their efforts weren’t always what he expected. And he sensed, or perhaps hoped, that they’d keep his resurrection to themselves, too.

Self-indulgently, he hummed a little Mariah Carey and took one more stroll around, before coming to a stop in front of the Christmas tree. It was time to go; it’d be dawn soon.

“As Tiny Tim said, ‘A Merry Christmas to us all; God bless us, every one!’”

Gabriel grinned, raising his fingers to snap them one last time, and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [malmuses](http://malmuses.tumblr.com) on tumblr, [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses) on AO3. Go share your love with them and enjoy their other works!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments for this author [on their chapter post here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127587) as well.
> 
> Art in this chapter by [kayanem](http://kayanem.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


	17. Christmas Day - by MittenWraith, with contributions from RaineWinchester67, wigglebox, and livinginthequestion

Dean was up early on Christmas morning. He’d spent ten minutes pacing around his room, glaring at the three gifts he lined up at the foot of his bed, arguing with himself over which to stick under the tree. Almost everyone else had left their gifts in the library the night before. He’d caught a few of them sneaking in like bank robbers before sliding a wrapped package into the growing pile and slinking off hoping nobody saw them. None of them had noticed Dean sitting in a dark corner of the room with a glass of whiskey. He’d been too afraid to investigate the gifts, wondering which of them might be his.

Now his time was up and he’d have to make a decision. He quit pacing and stood in front of the gifts. Dean picked up the smallest box, turning it over in his hands for a minute or two, before sighing and cramming the box into the pocket of his robe. He didn’t have to decide yet. He could get some coffee first. In fact, he  _ should _ get some coffee first. It would probably help. There were cinnamon rolls to heat up, too. They wouldn’t hurt either.

He poured himself a cup of coffee while enjoying the delicious smell wafting from the baking rolls, and wasn’t surprised in the least when the rest of the bunker was drawn to the kitchen. Jack was first, rubbing his eyes and sniffing the air contentedly as he wandered into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he said, pouring a small mountain of sugar into a cup of coffee.

Cas was right behind him, strolling in while Jack poured another cup for him. Dean smiled up at him nervously, feeling the lump of the ring box in his pocket. He’d almost forgotten it was there.

“Yeah, merry Christmas,” Dean replied vaguely to them both.

He’d just begun to wonder if it was too late yet to run back to his room to put the ring back, maybe bury it in his drawer under fifty black t-shirts where nobody would ever find it, when there was an unholy shout from the library.

“What the fuck?” Sam yelled, the sound more than enough to awaken even the soundest of the rest of the sleepers.

Dean set down his coffee and ran out to the library, Jack and Cas on his heels. The three of them skidded into the room and nearly ran Sam over before coming to the exact same conclusion that Sam had.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, frozen in his tracks. He turned to where Jack was attempting to see the entire spectacle over his shoulder. “You didn’t happen to spend the entire night decorating, did you?”

Jack just shook his head slowly, taking in the completely transformed library with wide eyes. “It must be a Christmas miracle,” he said softly.

“There’s no such thing,” Cas replied, pushing his way around Dean and cautiously examining the nearest decorations. He poked at a bit of tinsel. “There doesn’t seem to be an enchantment on any of the decorations.”

“What’s going on in here,” Claire said, halting in the doorway at the spectacle. “Whoa. Someone’s been busy.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t any of us,” Dean said. “Did Donna and Jody cook this up?”

Claire just shook her head slowly, cautiously following Cas into the room.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, sidestepping toward the archway where all the stockings hung.

“Let me see, Sam,” Cas replied, peering up at Sam’s stocking before reaching up and pulling out the feather Gabriel had left there. He frowned at it, running it through his fingers, closing his eyes in disbelief. “It can’t be… but it would explain everything.”

He handed the feather to Sam.

“It was in your stocking,” Cas told him. “I think Gabriel wanted you to have it.”

“Gabriel?” Sam choked out. “He’s… but we saw him die over in the other world.”

Dean snorted. “How many times we seen him die now? I think that officially makes him one of us.” He looked up at the ceiling, as if Gabriel might’ve been hiding atop one of the bookshelves or in the rafters. “Welcome to the unkillable club. We’re having pie for dinner if you wanted an invite.”

The rest of the bunker’s denizens began filtering out into the library one by one as Dean and Jack kept the coffee and cinnamon buns coming out of the kitchen. They sat around the tables feeling warm and content, picking through the selection of candy and treats Gabriel had left them in their stockings. It had been an unexpected shock, to say the least. The true Christmas miracle was how little Dean complained about all the glitter and how long it was gonna take to clean it all up.

They pushed two of the library tables together so they could all sit together. Mary frowned down the length of the table.

“How long have you boys lived here, and you still don’t have a sofa?”

Dean scoffed. “Like they make a sofa big enough for all of us anyway.”

“Two sofas, then,” Mary replied with a grin. “At least. Especially if you boys are gonna keep collecting family like this.”

For a while everyone was content to sit together, enjoying each other’s company, and occasionally casting a nervous glance at the pile of presents beneath the tree. When the cinnamon rolls were gone and they’d reached optimum caffeine and sugar levels, Cas took a deep breath and gave Jack a little nod. Jack took that as his cue to stand, drawing everyone’s attention to him as the room went silent.

“Thank you all again for being here today. Last Christmas we were separated in alternate universes, and I know how much it means to have everyone you care about safe and together, and happy,” he gave Cas a weak little smile at that last, but moved along. “I hope everyone had fun shopping for their secret Santa presents.”

There were a few nervous chuckles and a relieved sigh or two, but Jack just smiled at everyone and walked over to the tree.

“From my research, I gather that each of us will now get to play the role of Santa. If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to start.”

“Better you than me,” Dean muttered, and Rowena elbowed him and gave him a withering look.

“Let the boy alone. He’s put a lot of work into this,” she replied.

Dean acknowledged that with a nod, only at that moment realizing that he still had the ring box in his pocket. That settled it, then. While he’d been having his minor meltdown, Jack had picked up two boxes from beneath the tree and set them down in front of Sam.

“Merry Christmas, Sam!” Jack said, grinning as he sat back down on the edge of his seat, watching eagerly as Sam looked down at the boxes. “Open the card!”

Sam slid the card out from under the ribbon of the top box. “You didn’t have to get me two presents, Jack. I thought there was a rule about that.”

Jack shrugged. “Nah, I had to.”

Sam read the card aloud.

 

Merry Christmas, Sam!

 

I hope you like your presents. I thought I’d get you something for when you want to remember the happy moments in life since you’ve been a part of many of mine. Thanks for everything, Sam. 

 

-Jack

 

Sam grinned at Jack, choked up for a second before Jack urged him to open the gifts, practically bouncing in his seat. He opened the box of nougats and laughed, offering them around to everyone at the table.

“Good choice, Jack,” Sam said.

“Open the other one!”

Sam did as ordered, pulling the beautiful gold picture frame from its box. Across the top, the frame simply said  _ Family _ , and at the bottom  _ The Reason For The Season _ . The frame was nice, but what really struck Sam was the photo it held. Jack, Dean, Cas, and him, all sitting around this very table in a happy moment just a few nights ago. He hadn’t realized anyone had even been in the room during their late-night chat.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I saw you boys out here the other night and you all looked so relaxed and happy together,” Mary said. “I couldn’t resist taking a picture, and when Jack asked if I had any family photos and told me why, we went and had this one printed up.”

Sam was barely holding in his tears. Yeah, he didn’t mind at all.

“Thanks, mom. And thank you, Jack. That’s going on my desk in my room. I love it.”

Jack just smiled at him for a minute, and felt content. He’d done it right.

“Okay, Sam,” he said, after giving Sam a moment. “It’s your turn now.”

Sam composed himself and went to the tree to retrieve his gift for Bobby. He slid it across the table and Bobby warily unwrapped it. 

Sam exhaled, controlled and quiet after he realized he’d been holding his breath too long. 

To his horror, Bobby’s face started to turn red. Fearing an outburst, Sam looked away and down at the floor. But no shouting came, instead another sniff. Sam dared a glance over to Bobby, and saw the man holding back watery eyes, nodding his head. He clutched the CD in his hand with white knuckles. Mary patted his hand, her face lined with sympathy.

Bobby took a deep breath and excused himself, heading for the nearest doorway. Sam gave Mary a questioning look, and she nodded, giving him the go ahead, and then got up to follow him out while Jack offered to go make another pot of coffee until they were ready to resume the gift exchange.

Sam found Bobby in the hallway, gripping the CD so tight that Sam was fearful it would break. Tears now flowed freely down the man’s cheeks, and he sniffled again. 

“Sorry. Can we talk?”

Bobby only nodded and looked back down at the CD. 

“I’m sorry I made you upset with this gift,” Sam explained, “I heard you singing some Elvis songs the other day, and figured you were a fan. I didn’t expect this though.” 

Bobby shook his head and Sam’s hope fell a bit, fearing biting words and another shove out of the personal bubble Bobby had around him. 

Instead, he turned to Sam. In the blink of an eye, his arms enveloped Sam into a bone-breaking hug. Stunned, Sam stood there for a moment. He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t hate the gesture. He just didn’t know what to do. 

A minute passed, and Bobby pulled back, wiping his eyes. 

“Well, you guessed right, then,” he waved the CD in front of Sam, a sad smile stretching across his face, “I used to play this to my son when he was little. It was the only thing to get the kiddo to sleep. He was born on Christmas Eve. I get a little-- emotional around the holidays,” Bobby turned another warm smile to Sam. “But I’m finding this Christmas alright.” 

Sam smiled at him, glad to have been able to give Bobby something that meant so much to him. Not just the music, but a whole family to surround himself with.

Jack arrived back in the library with a fresh pot of coffee just as Sam and Bobby returned.

“Guess it’s my turn, then,” Bobby said, bypassing the table where Mary was refilling his mug and heading straight to the tree to pick up his gift. He set it down in front of a surprised Mary with a broad, warm grin. “Merry Christmas.”

Mary blinked at him for a moment and then smiled, tearing the paper from the small box. She pulled out several wads of decorative tissue paper to find a shiny new Chevy key chain and a set of keys attached. She held them up and gave Bobby a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, she’s actually out in the garage. We can go take a look at her later. She’s not road-worthy yet, but she will be come spring.”

“You got me a car?” Mary asked, completely floored.

Bobby nodded, his grin turning impish now that he’d completely surprised her. “It’s a ‘72 Camaro, just like the one you told me you used to have.”

“Bobby, oh wow,” Mary replied, torn between elation and utter shock. She goggled at him for a moment and then flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you. We’re gonna have some fun fixing her up.”

“Damn right, we are.”

Bobby’s past and his future, all rolled into one of the best Christmases he could remember. Mary released him, tucking the key into her pocket with one last sly grin at Bobby before bouncing out of her chair to retrieve the cheerful red wrapped box for Charlie. She set it down on the table and Charlie’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, wow, for me?” Charlie asked, reaching out a tentative hand for the package.

Mary snorted. “Of course, for you, Charlie. Merry Christmas.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”

She unwrapped the box and stared at the bright yellow kettle like it was sunshine incarnate, and then beamed at Mary, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I guess I have to buy some mugs now. And once you have a kettle and some mugs, I guess you’ve got a decent start on a home, right?”

Mary nodded at her, smiling, reaching a hand across the table to pat Charlie’s. “I hope so.”

Charlie nodded back, determined not to cry as she took a deep breath and started to stand.

“Wait just a second,” Mary said, standing up again and retrieving a shopping bag full of smaller gifts. “I haven’t bought you boys Christmas presents in more than thirty years, and I couldn’t help myself.”

Charlie sat back down, laughing at the bewildered looks on Sam and Dean’s faces. Mary slid a box down the table to each of them, and they looked at each other before tearing into their gifts.

“Whoa, nice,” Sam said, admiring the little bottles of whiskey.

“Not exactly what you expected to be buying your kids at our last family Christmas,” Dean added. “But it’s awesome. Thanks, mom.”

She leaned across the table and handed Cas his gift, too. He looked even more confused than Sam and Dean had, but dutifully tore the paper off his gift.

“It’s just a little something fun,” Mary said, working overtime to control her face as Cas peered into the box at the blue tie decorated with a cheerful little snowman.

He reached up and tugged off his plain blue tie, and with all due seriousness replaced it with his new tie.

“How does it look?” he asked her, while Dean fiddled with the knot to make it lay flat.

“Very festive,” Mary replied.

“That’s one word for it,” Dean said, looking from the grinning snowman up to Cas’s earnest face and feeling all sorts of butterflies at the thought of watching Cas unwrap his ring while that snowman stared him down.

“And don’t worry, Bobby, I didn’t forget you. She handed him the final box, and he grinned with pleasure as he unwrapped his own whiskey collection.

“This is pretty darn festive, too,” he said, smiling at her.

“Okay, Charlie,  _ now _ it’s your turn,” Mary said.

Charlie gave her a look just to make sure, and then fetched Rowena’s box from under the tree.

“One redhead to another, merry Christmas, Rowena.”

Rowena looked at the package, assessing it critically, and then carefully unwrapping it. When she saw the box she let out a little gasp. “Did you get me shoes, or is just just the box?”

Charlie laughed. “Just open it and find out.”

“Ooh, I get to open it twice, then,” Rowena said, lifting the lid.

Atop the tissue paper inside sat Charlie’s envelope, and Rowena read it out loud, giving Charlie a curious look.

“Fancy an adventure? I think I might, dear.”

She couldn’t resist peeking under the tissue paper at the sparkly shoes inside, but something told her that the real gift was what Charlie had written inside that envelope. She peered inside and all the air rushed out of her.

“Och, my. You… you found it?”

Charlie nodded, grinning mischievously. “Yep.”

“And you want to help me bring it home?”

“I thought that was only fair, since you helped bring me home.”

“Wait, what are you two getting up to?” Dean asked, finally distracted from Cas and his snowman.

“None of your beeswax,” Charlie said, while Rowena replied, “It’s a girls adventure, Dean. Maybe next time.”

“It’s nothing bad, I swear,” Charlie assured him, and Dean settled back into his own personal impending dilemma again.

“Charlie just planned us a little trip, is all, and procured the perfect pair of travelling shoes,” Rowena added, getting up and retrieving Maggie’s gift. She set it down in front of the girl and gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

Maggie looked at the box uncertainly, and then to Jack who gave her a contented smile in return, and finally smiled up at Rowena.

“Thank you,” she said, tearing into the paper.

She opened the box inside and was greeted with the bright red mug and a rich minty aroma. “Mmm, that smells wonderful.”

“A cup of that on a cold evening will set you right,” Rowena insisted. “Take it from a witch. No magic,” she added, with a sidelong glance at Dean before he could object. “Just the magic of an excellent cup of refreshing tea.”

“Ooh,” Charlie piped in, holding up her shiny new kettle. “We should get together for a tea party!”

Maggie laughed and nodded. “Sounds great. I guess that means it’s my turn.”

She handed Jack the thin package. She watched nervously as he unwrapped it and studied the cover of the comic, laughing when he saw the superhero’s name.

“Hey, his name is Jack, too!”

He grinned at her and then opened the card. As he read her words, his smile grew wider. When he’d finished, he set the card down, got up from the table, and walked around to give Maggie a hug. He whispered in her ear, “Thank you. Today I do have everything I wished for, and I hope you do, too.”

“I’m working on it,” Maggie replied. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Wait, so who goes next?” Claire asked. “Jack’s already gone.”

Jack blinked up at her, glanced around at who had already opened their presents and who still remained. “Oh, I hadn’t planned for this. Why don’t you go, Claire.”

It was Claire’s turn to blink like a startled rabbit, but it was only fair. She was the one who pointed out the conundrum. She handed Jody her gift with a tentative smile.

“Oh, okay,” Jody said, taking the package and tearing off the paper.

“Oooh, what a nice color!” Jody pulled the sweatshirt from the box and shook it out. “Oh, I like this, so soft and cozy!” She ran her hand over the front, then turned it over, still talking. “I may even sleep in this, it’s so comfy--” She broke off, seeing the embroidery on the back. She sat completely still, reading and rereading. Finally, she looked straight at Claire, her eyes full. 

Claire fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to meet Jody’s eyes. Finally she looked up. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have said what I said. I like hunting by myself, probably always will. But I promise I’ll check in from now on. I just want you to - I want to thank you for being there for me. It, um, it really means a lot.” She ground to a halt, scowling down at her hands. 

Jody leaned across and cover Claire’s hands with her own. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Claire.” 

Claire smiled crookedly back at her. “Merry Christmas, Jody.” 

Jody slipped off the sweatshirt she’d been wearing and replaced it with the one Claire gave her before handing Donna’s gift to her.

“Jodes! You certainly know how to keep a secret.”

Jody shrugged and took her seat again, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. “Secret Santa is the name of the game. Go on, open it.”

Donna unwrapped the paper and ran her hands over the luxuriously soft fabric of the pajamas. “Ooh, Jody, I could wrap myself up in these.”

Jody laughed. “That’s the idea.”

“But what’s this?” She’d run her hand over a lump, and pulled the key out of the pocket. “A key?”

Jody nodded at the wrapping. “There’s one more thing in there, underneath…”

Donna gave her a curious look, but lifted up the pajamas and gave them a little hug. She found the envelope with the official Sioux Falls Sheriff’s Department logo on it.

“I didn’t leave town with an unpaid parking ticket last time I visited, did I?” Donna asked, opening the envelope. As she read the letter inside, she drew in a surprised breath. “Oh, wow.”

“You don’t have to accept it right now,” Jody assured her. “No pressure. We just have a vacancy, and you would be the most qualified candidate for the position. Not to mention, you’re part of our family. The girls and I wanted you to know you have a standing invitation.”

“Oh, wow,” Donna repeated, but with feeling. “It’s a lot, Jodes. But it’s a lot of good.”

Jody nodded, and the two women smiled at each other for a few moments until Jack cleared his throat.

“Donna? It’s your turn.”

“Oh, you are correctamundo, Jack.” She retrieved Alex’s gift and set it down in front of her. “I suppose you were in on Jody’s present?”

Alex nodded as she held her gift.

“Then thank you, too.” Donna looked around at Claire and Patience. “All of you.”

“It’s our pleasure, Donna. You belong with your family. Plus, we never know when we might need a flamethrower again.”

Donna snorted. “Then I hope you’re not disappointed with your present. Spoiler alert, it’s not a flamethrower.”

Alex grinned and unwrapped her package. She pulled out the handmade mittens and laughed, turning them over in her hands and running her fingers along the intricate caduceus design worked into the wool.

“Wow, these are awesome,” she said, pulling them on and rubbing her hands over her cheeks. “Super cozy. Thanks, Donna.”

Donna grinned at her and raised her coffee cup in a toast. “Can’t have those healing hands getting cold in the South Dakota winter. Just don’t wear them out killing monsters.”

Alex laughed and got up to bring Patience her gift. She didn’t even take off her mittens, fumbling the package a little in its slick paper.

“Merry Christmas, Patience. I hope you like it,” she said, returning to her seat and feeling the nerves creep up on her. She’d spent the better part of the week covertly knitting on her breaks and late into the night. She bit her lip as Patience tore into the wrapping and the scarf came sliding out into her lap.

Patience gasped and ran her hands along the soft, fluffy scarf, her eyes unfocusing as she froze for a moment.

“Oh my god, Alex,” she said, looking in awe from the scarf to her friend, knowing exactly how much work, care, and love Alex had invested in her gift. “You did all that for me?”

Alex shrugged, her cheeks going pink, and then nodded. “It was nothing, really. I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“I love it,” Patience replied. “You made it for me. Thank you so much.”

She wrapped it around her neck and let it settle around her shoulders, warming her physically almost as much as it had psychically. These people who she hadn’t even known a year ago were now well and truly her family. It felt better than she ever expected to know that she was right where she belonged. With that thought, she handed her gift to Claire, closing her eyes and infusing it with healing energy one last time.

“Oh!” Claire said, opening the box and revealing the beautiful necklace inside. She touched the green stone set into the pendant and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“It’s malachite,” Patience told her. She’d already seen the effect the stone had on Claire. She didn’t need to explain its purpose. She just knew that Claire understood.

“It’s gorgeous,” Claire replied, slipping the long chain over her head and letting the pendant rest over her heart. She sighed contentedly and pressed the stone to her chest. “I love it. Thank you.”

Patience nodded and sat back in her chair, relieved that everything seemed right for her whole family for once.

It was Jack who noticed they’d once again closed the Santa loop. This time, it had been his intent, though. Dean and Cas were the only two left who hadn’t exchanged gifts, exactly as he’d planned. He just sat and waited, watching Cas begin to fidget as he realized what Jack had done. He and Dean had bought gifts for each other, and Cas had one last chance to switch out his gift. He was about to excuse himself, but Jack chose that moment to restart the proceedings.

“Cas, why don’t you go next?”

“Oh, um,” he said, shifting in his chair and casting a petrified glance at Dean. “I suppose I can do that.”

He could’ve bolted off to his room, but instead he went to the tree and picked up the large, heavy box and set it carefully in front of Dean.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he said, feeling disappointed in himself for having settled for the safer gift choice. He slumped back into his seat as Dean admired the large box.

Dean blinked at it, and then at Cas, and then slowly peeled back the wrapping to reveal the shiny new mixer. A feeling of both excitement for the new toy for his kitchen, but also a little bit of disappointment that Cas had bought him something useful instead of something deeply personal like he’d done. He thought back to the suit and the jacket he’d bought Cas at first, and to the turmoil he’d suffered-- both before and after he’d found the ring. No, even if Cas hadn’t suffered through that kind of personal crisis over his gift, Dean was determined.

“This is awesome, Cas,” he said, hoping his latest personal crisis had passed as awe over the frankly awesome miser. “We should bake fresh bread for dinner tonight, now that we got the right equipment for the job.”

He grinned up at Cas, hoping he looked as excited as the gift merited. It was something he’d been wanting to get for himself, and Cas just somehow knew that, and remembered. And hell if that didn’t make him love the guy all the more. Dean took a deep breath and reached into his pocket, and then handed the small box to Cas before he could chicken out.

The room was so silent they could’ve heard Gabriel breathing if he’d been hiding out in the rafters. Cas opened the lid of the box and saw the delicate gold ring lying inside. He ran his fingertip over the feathers, circling the entire gold band, and then blinked up at Dean with an expression Dean had never seen on his friend’s face. It was some horrible mix of confusion, disappointment, and wonder.

Without a word, Cas stood up so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over backward, and then strode from the room. Dean watched him go for a second, mortified. He glanced around at his stunned family, and then slowly stood up.

“I think I should…” he trailed off, pointing vaguely after Cas.

Mary nodded, and Sam shooed him off with a wave of his hand. Dean took off like a shot, running to catch up with Cas. He figured Cas would head toward his room, and when Dean arrived at his door he found Cas digging through the drawer of the little desk that sat by his largely unused bed.

“Uh, Cas?” he asked, frozen in the open doorway.

Cas startled and slammed the drawer shut, hiding something behind his back with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the ring box Dean had given him.

“Is everything okay?” Dean started, taking a cautious step into the room. “If you’re upset about the ring, you don’t have to keep it. It’s just…” Dean trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and taking another step toward Cas. “I know we’re not… you know,  _ a thing _ , but you should know I mean every word of that,” he said, pointing at the box.

Cas frowned at him. “There are no words, Dean. It’s a symbol.”

“Same difference. I mean everything it symbolizes, then.”

“I’m not upset about the ring, Dean. I was upset with myself,” Cas finally said, taking the remaining steps to stand in front of Dean. “I wrestled with the choice of what to give you, and apparently I chose wrong,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable receiving this in front of your family.”

He handed Dean his other gift, and Dean just stood there staring from the small box tied with a blue bow up past the smiling snowman on Cas’s tie and into his relieved eyes. Dean undid the bow and lifted the lid, revealing the shiny black ring and a little handwritten card explaining its origins. Dean held the cold metal in his hand as he read over the card, the full understanding of the weight of the gift settling over him.

“Dude, it’s like a piece of you. Uh, symbolically, at least.”

“There’s even words,” Cas replied, pointing to the card and grinning.

Dean cleared his throat and held up the ring, setting the box down on Cas’s bed. “Um, so I guess we’re on the same page here.”

Cas frowned at him, taking the gold ring out of its box and setting it aside. “You should understand fully what my feelings and intent are in giving you this. It may have been an easy choice for you, but--”

Dean laughed so hard at that that Cas rested a concerned hand on his shoulder as he doubled over.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Dude,” Dean said, standing up straight and wiping his eyes. “That was the hardest fucking choice I’ve ever made. No lie. I broke down and cried in a fucking Macy’s bathroom, Cas.”

Cas shook his head, bewildered by Dean’s outburst, but Dean was grinning at him, and it felt good.

“No, trust me. I get it. This is a big deal, okay? But I need you in my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, however you’d have me. Like I said, I meant every word. Even the ones I’ve been too chickenshit to say out loud. I know you know what they are.”

Cas nodded slowly. “Same, Dean. Same.”

They stood there staring at each other for a minute or two, holding their respective rings and letting reality settle back around them in this post-words world. They could’ve stood there all day, if a frustrated sigh hadn’t echoed down from somewhere near the ceiling and a sprig of mistletoe appeared above their heads, floating in midair.

“Gabriel?” Cas asked the ceiling with a frown, but the only reply he got was distant muttered grumbling before he knew that Gabriel’s presence had vanished, leaving them entirely alone. Well, aside from the floating mistletoe.

“I think it’s a sign,” Dean said.

Cas agreed, nodding once as he leaned in for a tentative kiss.

“Hell, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Dean said as Cas pulled back.

The mistletoe was gone, but he pulled Cas in for another kiss anyway.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean said after they’d kissed each other breathless. “I got a couple other things for you.”

He took Cas by the hand and led him down the hall to his room, still holding their rings. Once safely inside with the door shut, Dean held up his hand and slid the ring onto his finger, nodding at Cas to do the same. They grinned at each other as Dean pointed to the two packages still sitting at the foot of his bed. Cas laughed.

“I suppose you did have a more difficult decision to make. At least I only had to choose between two options.”

“Yeah, but at least one of us made the right call, or who knows how long it would’ve taken us to get here.”

“Yes, thank you, Dean.” He looked down at his hand, rubbing his finger where the unfamiliar gold band rested, warming up against his skin. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t even get to tell you that.”

“Yeah, well, this is pretty awesome, too,” Dean replied fiddling with his ring. “A little fallen piece of space junk that got reforged into something special and found a new forever home. And now it’s mine. I didn’t miss those words, you know.”

Cas nodded, knowing now for sure that Dean truly understood. “I like the way that sounds.”

“But dude, you gotta see what else I got for you,” Dean said eventually, leading him over to the other packages.

Cas considered changing into his new suit, but Dean convinced him to wait. He wasn’t sure he could take Cas stripping down to nothing right then. Their family was still out in the other room waiting and probably wondering what was happening with them. Dean did convince Cas to try on the leather jacket, and he regretted it almost as much as he would’ve watching Cas strip.

Dean was considering just blowing off Christmas dinner and wondering if Cas would want to kiss him again when his thoughts were derailed by an unholy shrieking echoing through the bunker.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean muttered, biting his lip and rolling his eyes as he went to the door. As soon as it was opened, he could hear the general ruckus from the library; chairs pushed around hastily and everyone in a general state of distress. “We should make sure nobody’s dying out there,” he said, and Cas replied with a resolved nod as they took off for the library.

They arrived to find what looked like Santa himself, lying on the war room floor. His furry red suit was torn and stained with blood, as were the white wisps of hair peeking out from beneath his fur-trimmed hat. He lay face down, groaning, as Jack and Alex had crouched down to offer him aid and everyone else stood around them.

“What happened?” Dean asked as he and Cas made their way to the bedraggled and apparently mauled figure of Santa.

Santa groaned again and attempted to roll over, but growled out a warning. “It’s Krampus. He’s gone mad. He snapped last night and started a riot at the north pole. He stole my sleigh and eight reindeer. The elves are in turmoil. All their work, for nothing…” He flopped back onto his face.

“Krampus?” Sam said, kneeling down by the man’s head, looking like Santa had arrived to steal Christmas from him, but determined to save the world again if it needed saving. “Like, evil Santa? Do you know what he was planning? Is anyone in immediate danger?”

Santa made a pained noise and began pushing himself up onto his knees, wobbling a little as more blood dripped to the floor.

“I… I think…” Santa said, looking up into Sam’s face slowly, and dropping the illusion until Sam was staring into Gabriel’s sparkling eyes. “I think you’re gonna be in trouble if Deano was lying about the pie.”

Sam blinked at his grinning face and gaped at the laughing archangel. Gabriel got to his feet, brushing off his red suit, still dripping with fake blood.

“Well, glad to know I had at least one good trick left in me. So, anyone got any egg nog around here? I’ve had a really busy night,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and heading off toward the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, by the way,” he added, disappearing through the doorway and leaving everyone else dumbstruck.

“And to all a good night,” Jack added, for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all very much, and I hoped you loved reading this as much as we all loved bringing it to you! You can find the tumblr masterpost for this work by [following this link](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/181363530955/christmas-dont-end-in-blood-bunker-secret-santa), and as always, you can find me on tumblr at [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com).
> 
> Have a very happy holiday!


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